Of Dragon Queens and Deathclaw Tamers
by Darthkvzn
Summary: The Empress of Nirn is bored. She hasn't been on a worthy quest in decades, so with her Empire off conquering Aetherius, Astrid Frost-Wyrm turns to her origins, on the dead continent of Atmora. There, she will be taken to an entirely new world, and perhaps help save a certain frozen Vault Dweller... Part of the Whispers of Darkness verse
1. The Secret of Old Atmora

**Yes, this takes place in the same galaxy as Whispers of Darkness. Nirn may be its own planet, but the majority of this story takes place on Earth - specifically, Earth-2. Since WoD is pretty much about to finish, I thought we could get on with some of the spin-off stories! This story takes place approximately two years before WoD, in 2189 by Citadel Council standards. The Empire of Nirn has evolved to become a space-faring civilization, and its leader has become, for lack of a better word, _bored_ with ruling. This is the story of what happens because of her boredom.**

 **That being said, if this admittedly strange crossover is not something you'd like associated with Whispers of Darkness, feel free to consider them separate, as there's no overlap between the two stories for quite a while, if at all.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Even with the blood of Nords and Giants running through Astrid's veins, the cold in this part of her homeland bit like an indignant Alduin.

She had wished to find her origins, to go as far north as possible, and the cyan path of her Clairvoyance spell led her no further than where she stood, ahead of a small rock formation, buried in ice and snow. This was the heart of the country that had seen her born, even if she could not remember it - even if the long dead continent of Atmora, as confirmed by her recent travels, did not seem to have borne any sort of intelligent life in millennia. Frost trolls, giant spiders, and ice wraiths were all that lurked around the frozen wastes and ruined cities of her forefathers.

The spectral purple fur of her massive familiar brushed against the dark claws that adorned her gauntlet. She patted the great direwolf's head, causing it to whine contentedly. "This should be the place, Aela. Where Men came from. And yet, nothing but a pile of frosted rock covered in snow."

Indeed, there seemed to be nothing around for miles but snow, the last signs of ancient Atmoran structures long since past. She frowned, looking at the swirling white skies above her. If experience was anything to go by, she needed to look at the problem from a different angle. Drawing breath, and feeling the dragon blood within her, she spoke the sacred language of the most powerful creatures on Nirn.

" **LOK-VAH-KOOR!** "

The thunderous sound of her Voice filled the air around and above her, and the terrible blizzard that seemed to permanently affect the frozen continent seemed to bow before her power, halting at once - literally, the snowflakes stopped falling, hovering in mid-air before breaking down, the beautiful night sky swiftly revealing itself to her. Masser and Secunda dominated Aetherius, as always, the faintest trace of Khajiit civilization lighting up their surface. It had been decades since she'd last been to the moons - or anywhere beyond Nirn's atmosphere, really. Exploring Tamriel kept her busy enough, and the Empire did not require any sort of management on her part, these days. She'd done the heavy lifting a couple Eras ago, after all. Serana enjoyed the politics involved in being her appointed Regent, and she trusted the Elder Council Paarthurnax led not to betray her reign.

The familiar yipped, grabbing her attention. It pawed at the snow mound in front of them, like it was trying to knock on a door. "I can feel... _something_. Beneath the ice, perhaps? There must be something I am missing." -she surmised, amused. The direwolf sat on its haunches, cocking its head. "What do you think? Could we use some help?"

A dark aura wreathed her hands, as she murmured the short incantation required to open a portal to Oblivion. The vortex opened, and a gout of flame appeared inside it, coalescing into a semi-solid, feminine form, held together by runed, black, and armored patches of metal. The Flame Atronach stared at her sightlessly, flames consuming the upper half of its face. "Please melt the ice, Thrall." -she requested.

The daedra nodded - it didn't need to, but they had enough of a history to be courteous with each other - and did as she asked. The crackling of her flames intensified, and a fiery stream flowed towards the ice, causing water to drip and vapor to rise.

She raised an eyebrow, backing away. As the Atronach's power was expended, _something_ began to appear beneath the ice. Nothing more than a hint, at first, but over time, it became a sort of angled metallic door, circular in shape, and the color of steel. The flaming daedra seemed to slump, exhausted, so she banished it back to its plane for some well deserved rest.

Her familiar rose, the metal catching its interest. It was smooth, without any sort of visible markings. She punched it, and it did not bend or dent in any way - impressive, considering her draconic strength. Aela smelled it, then growled, like she would when exploring Skyrim's ancient barrows.

" _Definitely_ something behind this." -she whispered. She checked Dawnbreaker, secured to the left side of her hips, but the daedric blade remained inert, the holy light at its hilt utterly absent. "No undead nearby, then."

Her hand enveloped in magickal fire, she cast a rune on the metallic surface. Aela smartly retreated alongside her. She held up a ward and braced as the symbol violently detonated, sealed air from inside the structure blowing out pieces of superheated metal, some of which pinged against her protection.

When the smoke cleared, she grinned; the metal circle had mostly vanished, in its place a gaping hole lined with glowing slag. She turned her attention to the direwolf. "I don't believe you'll fit in there, girl. Go to Serana, let her know what we've found."

Aela nuzzled against her chest, before running away, vanishing after a few yards. Astrid smiled, then turned towards the opening, manifesting a small orb of light, which in turn began to float around her head. She conjured a lightning bolt into her right hand, and stepped inside the darkened tunnel ahead.

The first thing that struck her about the place, as her eyes adjusted, was that it did not seem ancient, like it should have. In disrepair, yes, dilapidated as the ancient dwarven ruins beneath much of Tamriel, but there were clear signs of advanced technology - much more advanced than ancient Atmorans should've had. Thin lines of long-since-rusted wire snaked along the tubular walls, the panels meant to hide them corroded at her feet. Curious, she prodded the wires, but the electricity seemed to have no effect. Looking back at the entrance, she could see some kind of panel, covered in two flimsy, translucent buttons, colored red and green. She pressed each, but nothing happened.

She followed the electrical conduits, which led to a series of metallic catwalks, bridging a gap between two rocky ledges. Passing a sort of gate on the other side, she found a desk, upon which sat a weathered metal box, connected to the same wires prevalent around her. Astrid approached it; on the side facing the desk's broken-down chair, the box was made of curved crystal, covered in a thick layer of dust. Careful not to scratch it, Astrid wiped at it with the palm of her gauntlet. The sparks still on her hand arced to the glass, and _just_ for a second, a light appeared behind it, glowing with a sickly green tinge. Astrid raised an eyebrow, then pressed the tip of her finger against the glass, letting the arcane current pour through.

As she expected, the light appeared again, stable this time. The device, she decided, was surely analogue to the magelight displays, widely used in most every facet of everyday life in her Empire. Terribly clunky, if that was the case, though impressive, for something that had to be over seven-thousand years old. Beneath the display was a set of buttons, branded with many of the same symbols she could see behind the glass.

"This writing...the ancient Atmorans never developed an alphabet. Whose records are these?" -she pondered aloud. Feeling her soul rear back in anticipation, she whispered. " **Mindoraan.** "

Astrid's vision blurred for a moment, but as she focused again, she found that she could understand the text displayed.

" _Welcome to RobCo Industries Termlink._ " -she read, narrowing her eyes. "What in Oblivion does that mean?"

She skimmed the rest of the text, but it seemed to be no more than an introduction to whatever system allowed the device - a terminal, it called itself - to function. Frustrated, she turned to the buttons beneath. Almost all of them were the letters meant to be used to create the words on the crystal display, but a few were labelled otherwise. On impulse, she pressed the one with the word 'Enter'.

The terminal responded, thankfully, shifting to show an entirely different set of messages. She learned then that this was a security terminal, a sort of guard post meant to protect whatever lay deeper within the cave system. The guard registering the entries - a person named Marcus Sánchez - had started out optimistic, even excited about the prospect of 'working Vault-Tec's most secretive project.' The entries became progressively despairing, however, citing a strange lack of contact with representatives of the aforementioned organization, dwindling resources, and a myriad of other problems she couldn't make heads or tails of. Eventually, she got to the last of them, reading aloud.

" _Oh my god, they did it. They actually launched the_ nukes _. That must be why we've had no word from Vault-Tec in months. I guess they didn't make it, either. Damn it. At least being stuck out here saved our lives. I don't envy whoever survived the_ apocalypse _back home. Thing is, though, we're screwed, too. Two of the scientists already decided to bite a_ bullet _. Can't say I blame them; there's no backup, no more resource drops._ Hell _, we don't even have enough fusion cores to keep the portal running. I guess this is home now; even the Overseer can't seem to bring herself to stick with the original plan of staying in the Vault. We're not gonna last much longer in here._ "

Astrid gasped, accidentally cutting the power link. The terminal died, of course, but her curiosity had never been more alive. "These people...were they _Men_? Could they have been our ancestors?"

Only one way to find out, of course. She needed to see one for herself.

Progressing deeper into the 'Vault', as they seemed to call their dwelling, Astrid bore witness to the remnants of the troubles that the guard had noted; there was no ancient food left in any of the rooms she found, and what few items she could find seemed to have little to no use where survival was concerned. Clearly, these people had been scholars, observing and researching ancient Atmora. She stumbled upon two more terminals, which unfortunately failed to respond to her sparks like the first.

Examining the walls, she could see a few scraps of extremely brittle paper, desperately clinging to the vertical surface. Only a few were intact enough to make any sense of, but even then, Astrid lacked the frame of reference needed to truly understand. After a couple more rooms of rather fruitless exploration, she found a set of thick doors with a plaque above them that read 'Laboratory'. They were locked, and she could not see where to pick them open. Judging by the smaller terminal beside them, they were meant to open on command.

Astrid activated the terminal, but was surprised to find a jumbled mess of letters, numbers, and other strange symbols instead of a clear set of instructions. "Some kind of cypher, perhaps?" -she wondered.

She tried to select the correct option at random, but _that_ plan failed miserably. Soon enough, the terminal had 'locked out', refusing to accept any further commands. Astrid scoffed, offended, before punching the terminal to pieces. A Laboratory could hardly be a Dragon Priest's inner sanctum, she surmised. The doors would not stand before her Voice.

Planting herself in front of them, Astrid drew breath, and Shouted: " **FUS-RO-DAH!** "

Unrelenting Force burst from thin air, immediately expanding, making contact with the doors, and _easily_ blowing them off their hinges. Astrid smirked beneath her fearsome helm, satisfied, only to gasp when she saw what had been previously obscured.

The Laboratory was a circular room, dominated by a large, glass cylinder in the midst. A fragment of metal from the door had hit the crystal, but it had merely cracked a little; Astrid was certainly impressed, but more so, she was shocked. Within the cylinder, there was a Giant's mummified corpse, suspended in some kind of amber fluid. Dawnbreaker did not come to life, and yet Astrid could not help but notice how much the body looked like a massive draugr.

Lining the walls, there were other cylinders, much smaller in size. The first held a troll skull inside, completely devoid of flesh, its maw wide open. The second held two linked hearts, likely from the same creature. A third contained what could only be a Giant's skull, also pristine. Whatever had occupied the fourth had long since dissolved, turning the fluid a murky green, and lastly, the fifth had a direwolf's skull floating inside. All creatures native to Atmora, she noted.

The terminal beside the Giant's cylinder had miraculously survived her rather violent entry, _and_ responded to her sparks. Elated, she began to read.

" _This little fella happened to wander just a smidge too close to the Vault. He never had a chance; even covered in those thick furs, the_ auto-turrets _did him in in a few seconds. We think his kind is Atmora's native sentient species. Plentiful, but_ clearly _not too far into its potential for development_."

The other entries listed their findings regarding the Giant's anatomical description and other such notable traits. Nothing new to her there, but the fact that they called Atmora by the name she knew was telling; clearly, they'd been, if not her _actual_ forefathers, at least involved in the earliest stages of Atmoran civilization.

From the Laboratory, she advanced deeper inside. Very little caught her interest, unfortunately, but the picture was becoming fairly clear: these people had come to Nirn from another world - a place they called 'Boston', if she understood correctly - on a mission to study it, but had been cut off, and forced to forge an existence in ancient Atmora. Perhaps they had mixed with the Giants? She was living proof that it was possible, after all, and by all accounts - what few there were of that era, anyway - the first known Atmoran Men had been abnormally tall and formidably built, like her.

Whatever the case, confirmation came soon enough. Entering a room marked as an 'Infirmary', Astrid discovered a set of metal tables, two of which were occupied by familiar shapes, covered in white cloth. Taking the cover off of the closest table revealed a skeleton, predictably enough. The bones bore signs of fire damage, which told her the corpse had likely been cremated, though why they hadn't ground the bones into dust, she didn't know. Strangely enough, beside the grinning skull, she found a warped metal pellet. Bending down to examine it, she noticed that the back of the skull had a massive hole in it, the bone turned to a jagged and fragmented edge.

"Is this the _bullet_?" -she asked no one, slightly uncomfortable saying the foreign word. "The one the _scientists_ bit?"

She moved towards the other skeleton, and found it in the same position; the only difference was the hole's positioning, at the top of the skull instead of the back.

Astrid crossed her arms, frowning. She looked down at her hip, gauging whether her next idea was worth it. Ultimately, she decided, the Daedric Prince owed her too much to complain.

"Sorry about this, Meridia." -she whispered, letting her hands become wreathed in black-purple energy. She touched each of the skulls' foreheads, and let the Conjuration magic take effect.

Sure enough, the skeletons shook, slightly, as her necromantic spells bound them together, replacing long gone tendons and cartilage with a dark purple substance. Dawnbreaker blazed to life, but she ignored it, watching in satisfaction as the two corpses rose, creaking, from their resting places and turned to face her, eye sockets filled with an ethereal blue light.

"Welcome to the future." -she said. "Do you remember who you are?" -she asked.

They could not respond verbally, of course, so they nodded instead, in unison. Astrid smirked. "Excellent. Do you remember where you came from?"

Again, they nodded, this time shakily walking away. Astrid followed them, curious. Down a few hallways, they reached a sort of room with a grand wooden desk at its center - or what must've been, anyway, considering its current dilapidated state, broken in half, a larger terminal than the others tilted in the middle. She noted the name 'Overseer's Office' with interest; this must've been the Vault's base of operations.

The skeletons walked up to the desk, looked at her, then pointed at the terminal. She knelt down to activate it - the glass was shattered, but it was, thankfully, still operational - and began reading through the entries.

The Overseer had been a woman, aged forty-two, named Maria Gillespie. She'd been chosen by the mysterious 'Vault-Tec' because she had been, at one time, a decorated historian and anthropologist. The Vault itself was described to be tiny, by its builders' usual standards, built at the start of the year 2076. The construction had taken a little over a year, after which Maria Gillespie, and a team of twenty-four _scientists_ , six security officers, and five _engineers_ had traversed a stabilized space-time anomaly found when Vault-Tec was digging to make room for _another_ Vault, back in their homeworld.

"One-hundred and eleven." -she said, pursing her lips. "Just how _many_ of these Vaults did they create?"

At least one-hundred and twenty-three, if the one she stood on had been the last. The reason for its existence, Astrid was shocked to find, was, as indicated by the entry labelled 'Prime Directive', the successful conquest of Atmora, as a foothold in the eventual colonization of Earth-2, codename 'Terra'.

"Truly, you sought to conquer Nirn?" -she asked the skeletons, which seemed to hesitate before nodding. "By what _right_ did your 'Vault-Tec' believe it could _try_?" -she asked, angered. Her risen thralls failed to respond, the question too complicated for a yes or a no.

She shook her head, irritated, before resuming her reading. Gillespie detailed a very successful few early months - monitoring the local wildlife, mapping the surrounding lands, and studying nearby Giant tribes - before suddenly losing all contact with Earth on the twenty-second day of the month October, the portal closed on the opposite end. Gillespie very quickly figured out the situation, but did not share her theory to her underlings, instead trying to figure out how to carry out the Prime Directive with a tiny fraction of the resources necessary to complete it. Things worsened as the other Vault dwellers reached the logical conclusion regarding Earth's fate, of course, up to the point of suicide - Agatha Haynes and Colton Richards, the married couple macabrely stood behind her, taking their own lives when they figured out that their son, a young soldier, had likely died in the destruction back home.

In the end, the Overseer had failed to find a way. With little food left, and sure that there was no Vault-Tec for her to even fear disobeying, she had decided to ignore her orders, and head out with the remaining crew, to try and survive among the Giants that called Atmora home.

Astrid sighed. Her findings were…bittersweet. These were her ancestors, and that of all Men on Nirn. Of that, there was no doubt. It was plain for all to see, however, that their intentions in visiting this world had not been noble. She felt like many of the Altmer must have, when the first aethercraft breached their world's atmosphere. Much of what they thought to know about the Divines had been a lie. Magnus was a ball of eternal fire, not some kind of portal to another dimension.

The gods existed, but not as they had thought of them. The same went, apparently, for her ancestors.

Astrid abandoned the terminal, and dismissed her thralls, the bones clattering to the ground without her magicka to support them.

"I wish to visit this... _Earth_." -she said, resolute, and Clairvoyance lit her path, a cyan light appearing on the floor, leading towards the back wall of the room. Astrid narrowed her eyes, then reached behind her back, pulling Alduin's Fang from its scabbard. She easily plunged the unique greatsword into layers of wood and metal, finding them weakened by time and frost. Drawing her blade in an arc, she created an opening, which she bashed in with the black hilt, fashioned from the dark scales that had once made up the World-Eater's hide.

A darkened tunnel lay ahead, wide enough to move everything she'd seen within the Vault. She strode through the opening, the small orb dutifully reappearing above her head. It was a short walk to a large, circular room, the last of them all. There was a round hole built into the wall, which gave her pause; though they had clearly lay dormant for eons, the energies of Oblivion could still be felt within.

As if sensing her predicament, her familiar manifested again, taking on the shape of the Undead Regent herself.

" _Well, this is quite a find._ " -the vampire noted, crossing her arms.

"Indeed."

"Someone's _disillusioned. Did meeting your ancestors disappoint you?_ "

Astrid scoffed. "They are long dead."

Serana hummed. " _And yet you stink of Necromancy_."

The Dragonborn chuckled. "Aela is wonderful, but letting you smell me is not exactly part of her abilities."

" _For which I am most thankful. No, I just see the skull rolling behind you._ "

Astrid turned. "Ha! It seems Agatha wishes to visit Earth, too."

Her Regent raised an eyebrow. " _Is that where you're going?_ Earth _? Rather boring name, if you ask me._ "

"No doubt. However, it _is_ where we come from. Nords, Imperials...perhaps even the Redguards. They came from this Vault's survivors. They appear to have mixed with the Giants of the time."

Serana pondered Astrid's findings for a time. " _Firenor is going to have a_ field _day with this._ " -she muttered. " _I don't suppose you know where this world can be found?_ "

"Not a clue." -Astrid admitted, staring chagrined at the broken terminal beside the portal. "I shall send you my location as soon as I arrive."

" _Oh, you impatient oaf_." -she sighed, fondly. " _Will you not at least wait for a team from the College to confirm your findings?_ "

Astrid waved her off. "Adventure awaits no one, my friend, and I haven't had a good one in an age or two. I have a feeling this quest will be one to remember."

The Dragonborn's consort nodded, her answer already expected. " _Very well. I shall watch over your worlds, Astrid. Go, and conquer our next._ "

With that said, Serana's image morphed back into an expectant direwolf. Astrid pat her head, then began to examine the portal. The terminals had mentioned it ran on something called a fusion core. The cores had run out, forcing them to shut the portal down, and thus their hopes of returning. Examining the power cables nearby led to a console, affixed to the wall. A small, round niche next to a trio of buttons labelled 'Start', 'Cycle Core', and 'Eject' must've been the core receptacle.

It was also _just_ about the right size for her idea.

Rummaging through the enchanted pack behind her waist, she grabbed a black soul gem, filled. She checked it against the small opening, finding it _just_ a little too thick. Rolling her eyes, she pulled the Blade of Woe from the sheath strapped to her leg, and shaved off a few slivers until it fit. She also cut a little divot into the base of the gem, so it would make better contact with the conductive material at the end of the small tube. Astrid smiled fondly, as Aela curiously sniffed the discarded gem fragments.

Energy was energy, she reasoned. Whether it came from a fusion core, or the soul of a wicked man, it didn't really matter. Soul gems were also incredibly versatile, able to power any kind of enchantment imaginable. Satisfied with her handiwork, she punched the button that said 'Start'. The generator sputtered once, twice, and then loudly hummed to life, the black soul gem glowing a beautiful indigo as it channeled the infinite energies of the Soul Cairn. Aela howled, excited, as a swirling vortex appeared, rich with the power of Oblivion. The back of Astrid's gauntlet lit up with the unmistakable daedric symbol to confirm this.

Astrid Frost-Wyrm did not look back as she stepped into the portal, her enormous familiar in tow, for Earth awaited the glory of her Empire.


	2. The Sole Survivor of Vault 111

**Please be advised, I'm (obviously) not sticking as close as usual to the lore on this one. I'm not a game developer, so I don't have to worry about balancing the Dragonborn's powers and such. There will be some creative liberties taken.**

 **Also, the Sole Survivor curses a bunch, so y'know, language warning.**

* * *

Her first thought was of Shaun. Her baby boy, taken away from his mother and father.

 _Oh god. Nate…_

Everything felt numb; her body, her mind, her soul. Frozen, down to the bone, and even beyond. She could see nothing but blinding white light, even as she felt the outside air rush inside her treacherous cryo-pod.

She tried to push herself out of her containment, but the effort exhausted her. She fell forwards, unable to stop herself, and brusquely landed on an uneven metal surface.

It wasn't the floor.

"You are alive." -a voice above her said, heavily accented, and somewhat distorted. Nora's mind was still a haze, but she thought she heard _surprise_ tingeing the voice's tone.

She tried to speak, but only an exhausted moan came out. A pair of what felt like metal arms encircled her. Clearly, someone had caught her as she fell.

"Easy, little flame. The frost may have failed to slay you, but it has certainly weakened you. Rest, now."-the voice said, full of motherly concern.

Nora cleared her throat as best she could, licking her cracked lips. "N-n-n... _Nate_." -she managed to whisper.

The voice hesitated. "He is here, still. Glad to see you have survived. _Rest_ , please." -it said, softly.

For a second, Nora thought her cheek felt somewhat warmer, but the feeling passed as soon as it began. So, too, did the comfort of the voice's platitudes.

"He's... _dead_. I saw...he was... _shot_."

The hand behind her back began a rubbing motion. "I did not say he had survived."

Nora felt tears begin to stream. She knew he was dead. She'd known from the moment that bastard had threatened her husband with that nightmarish revolver. She'd fought her own half-frozen body, tried to punch at the glass in front of her face, but ultimately, she'd been nothing but a bystander for the murder of the love of her life, and the kidnapping of her baby.

"I need...the man...with the scar...did you see him?" -she asked, frustrated with her still absent vision, and her slurred speech.

"I did not. We will find him soon enough, I assure you. First, however, you must rest off the ice."

Nora didn't want to rest. Not when her son was out there, held hostage by his father's killer.

The voice sighed. "I did not want to force Calm on you, but you leave me no choice." -it said. Her vision, filled with little more than darkness, was swamped by a cold cyan light. Before she could protest, her consciousness surrendered.

* * *

Nora awoke to her senses returned. _Unfortunately_ , that also meant that every muscle in her body screamed in pain as she jolted upright.

" _Fuck_ —" -she breathed out, wincing as her eyes adjusted to the flickering flames of a campfire in the dark. A withering variety of smells assaulted her nose; burnt wood, smoke, and the enticing aroma of a stew, first and foremost, but underneath it all there was the sickeningly sweet odor of utter decay.

Nora looked around, slowly flexing her muscles. She was sat atop a wide, fallen log, half-covered by a gray, furry blanket. The Vault 111 jumpsuit and her underwear lay folded and cleaned beside her, so she looked at herself; someone had changed her out of her clothes, and dressed her in a strange, thick green tunic. She'd have been more uncomfortable if the night weren't so chilly.

Around her, a bunch of rusted out containers hid the horizon from view. Some still bore very faint Vault-tec branding, making her grimace in anger. She hadn't given it a second thought, when their rep had showed up on her doorstep. She'd been _so_ relieved when the Vault doors had sealed above them, protecting them from the nuclear explosion, only to seal them in, condemned to some bizarre...what, _experiment_? She didn't understand.

She slowly rose, stepping closer to the fire. An antique looking cauldron was suspended above the flames, held in place by robust wooden branches. Nora's mouth watered, seeing the contents bubble around. God only knew how long it had been since her last meal. She reached for the wooden ladle, and stirred the stew about. Slices and cubes of colorful vegetables surfaced, mixed in with a healthy amount of meat of an unknown nature, barely clinging to the thick bones giving volume to the broth. She looked around for a bowl, but found none.

What she _did_ find, however, was a very large, very _translucent_ purple wolf.

Nora gasped, holding the ladle in front of her as she backed away from the enormous canine. She idly thought that the wolf was big enough to ride.

It walked closer, but not towards her, completely undisturbed by her fear. The wolf sniffed the stew, whining. It sat on its massive haunches, then howled into the night, looking her in the eye, expectantly.

"Are...are you the one that did all this?" -Nora asked, feeling appropriately ridiculous.

The spectral wolf cocked its head, seemingly confused. Nora sighed, putting the ladle down. "Right, I'm asking a fucking ghost wolf. Am I even awake?" -she asked it, pinching her right arm, which, predictably, hurt.

"Awake and about, apparently." -a voice - _the_ voice - said, behind her.

Nora turned, and finally got a good look at its source. She had a hard time describing the approaching figure; they were tall, taller than anyone she'd ever met. About seven feet, if she had to take a guess. The humanoid was covered head to toe in a nightmarish, pitch black armor, accented by an otherworldly crimson glow that seemed to seep out from between the armor's plates. A primal, instinctive fear kept her in place, unable to take her eyes off of the horned helm's hollow eyes.

Nora had never been the best catholic, but she knew a demon when she saw one. Or at least, she thought she did, as the figure took her expression in, stopped, and reached for the helm, taking it off.

Underneath the demonic armor piece was the face of a woman, maybe a decade older than her. Her hair was short, buzzed off on the right side, and braided down the left, a beautiful platinum blonde. Her features were proud, almost regal, but the myriad laugh lines around her face made her seem approachable, even friendly. Her skin was almost unhealthily pale, with old scars all over her face, and two little _bumps_ above each eyebrow, like tiny horns. Her eyes glowed like burning amber, and purple-black veins creeped upwards from beneath her mostly concealed neck.

"I apologize; I did not intend to frighten you. Most know my helm better than my face, so I forget how intimidating it can seem to those who do not." -the woman said, her accent just as thick but now undistorted. Nora thought she sounded northern european, maybe.

"That's alright." -she found herself saying, the fear that had paralyzed her suddenly gone.

The woman smiled, walking by her and putting the helm down by the fire. Nora stared, dumbfounded, at the massive _sword_ between the bone-like black spikes adorning her shoulders, and the dark gray half-skirt hugging her backside. The woman seemed armed to the teeth; besides the beige-bladed greatsword strapped to her back, an ornate golden sword hung at her waist, and a black dagger was strapped to her right leg.

"My name is Astrid. You are Nora, yes?" -the strange woman asked, nodding at the ladle and extending a clawed gauntlet.

"That's me, yeah." -she answered, handing her the wooden instrument. Astrid thanked her, and started stirring the stew. "How do you know my name?" -Nora asked her host.

Astrid winked at her. " _Magic_."

Nora frowned, causing the other woman to laugh. "No, no. Well, not exactly. I read your...terminals?" -she said, as if unsure of the word. "The ones in the Vault. One had your name in it."

She felt bile rise up her throat. "The Vault...did anyone else survive?"

Astrid shook her head. "No, little fire. Frozen in death, all of the others. Only you drew breath, still." -she said, then amended. "Well, in a manner of speaking. There is no breathing in cryo-sleep."

Nora sat back on the log, numb. " _Why_? Why would Vault-tec do this?"

"An experiment, I believe. Callous, cold-hearted. This... _Vault-tec_ wanted to study the effects of freezing you for a long time. I read the terminals, while I explored the Vault." -Astrid explained, filling a wooden bowl Nora hadn't seen in her hands before.

She shook her head. In light of Vault-tec's betrayal, the giant ghost wolf and the blonde demon lady seemed almost benign. "Fucking hell. The Vaults were supposed to be shelter from the bombs, but...I guess we were screwed, inside or outside."

The blonde handed her a steaming bowl, matching spoon and all. "You are alive, Nora; from what I can tell, few may remain in this world that can claim the same. Cherish that thought. And please, eat. You will need the energy, if we are to find your child."

"You said you hadn't seen the man with the scar." -Nora said, scooping up a spoonful if stew and sticking it in her mouth. It was painfully hot, but the taste was incredible.

"And I did not lie, but there are a thousand and one ways to track someone down." -Astrid reassured her, then pointed at the wolf. "Aela may be able to follow his scent, if it's recent enough."

"The wolf is yours, then?"

Astrid nodded, proudly. "Aela has been my Familiar since I first cast the spell. She was a little cub, then, and I named her after my first crush. Now, she's a full-grown direwolf."

"A _spell_. You're saying she's...magical?"

"Aye. Where in nature have you seen a purple direwolf?"

Nora shook her head. "I mean, wolves had gone extinct in the wild for about five years before we went in the Vault. They were also not, you know, _horse-sized_. I thought it might've mutated from a zoo specimen or something."

Astrid filled another bowl. "Is that a more reasonable explanation than a simple magic spell?"

"Maybe it isn't. But, unless the Apocalypse fundamentally changed everything I know about science, magic _doesn't exist_."

"Not on this world, I'll give you that."

Nora raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Astrid gave her a look. "Surely you've figured out I am not of this world, by now?"

Nora blinked. "No, I hadn't. You're not a survivor of the bombs?"

"I've survived much, but none of what you call _nukes_. I hail from old Atmora, on the northernmost reaches of the planet Nirn. I grew up in Whiterun, in the midst of Skyrim, atop the continent of Tamriel. I was tracking down the origins of my kind, of Men in a world of Dragons and Elves, when I stumbled upon an ancient metal dwelling, not unlike the Vault you were trapped in. I activated a long dormant portal and travelled here, where I found and rescued you."

Nora munched on a piece of carrot. Silence reigned as she mulled things over. "You're shitting me."

Astrid barked a laugh. "I assure you, little fire, I would do nothing of the sort."

"Then I'm dead, and this is some kind of fucked up version of Purgatory."

The alleged alien frowned, putting down her own stew. Her eyes glowed brighter, and she opened her mouth to utter a single word.

" **LAAS**."

The foreign word was whispered, yet Nora felt it strike a chord deep within her, like distant thunder. She began to _glow_ a faint red, the same as Astrid. All around them, tiny pinpricks of the same light appeared, by the hundreds. The nearby, upright trees and other plant life glowed as well.

"What the _hell_ did you do?"

Astrid smiled, almost entranced. " _Laas_ means _life_ , in the language of Dragons. It is a Word of Power, and its power is to make life apparent. I live. You live. The trees, the shrubs, the bugs...there is life all around us, and yet…" -she pointed at the massive wolf, which remained purple. "Much as I cherish her company, Aela is not alive. She is a magical extension of my will."

The ethereal glow was quick to subside. Nora looked at her hands as Astrid resumed her eating. "This is real. You're an alien. A _magical alien_."

Astrid chuckled. "Glad to see you catch on."

"What the _fuck_."

"Indeed."

Nora shook her head. "And you're willing to help me? Find Shaun?"

"I can think of no better use of my time and power on this world."

The redhead rose, her forgotten bowl falling to the ground. "Can you teach me? How to use magic?"

Astrid snorted. "Not as you are, no. There's not a drop of magicka in your veins." -she said, then pulled something from her - probably magical - leather pouch. "I did find this, however."

Nora grabbed the offered item, a 10 millimeter pistol. "Where did you find this? It's _pristine_."

"The Vault Overseer's desk. I believe he may have...bit a bullet?"

She grimaced. "Where's the Vault? I want to see it for myself."

Astrid pointed behind the sole survivor of Vault 111. "Just beyond that rise. While I do not recommend it...you are going to need this, if you wish to head down."

The foreigner handed her a Mark IV Pip-Boy 3000, the model she'd briefly spotted on Vault 111's head physician. She quickly snapped it to her left wrist, and winced as dozens of tiny needles inserted themselves into her skin. The OS booted in no time, and her rough bio-signs displayed on-screen.

"Strange little piece of technology, that. It's fortunate it failed to draw my blood; it would have likely broken."

Nora snorted. Astrid probably had some kind of acid blood or something. The blonde hungrily slurped the last of her bowl of stew. "Would you like me to come with?"

Nora pursed her lips. "No, not yet. Give me a couple of minutes alone. I need time to...process everything."

"Of course. I will follow you inside later."

The magical woman dutifully stayed behind, helping herself to another bowl of stew. Nora walked off, absently checking the features of her new computer; a map of a Boston she didn't quite recognize, an empty inventory management system, and a journal waiting to be filled. Her vital signs were also displayed, and thankfully read as normal. Just out of curiosity, she checked the background radiation; much to her surprise, it was actually _lower_ than it had been, before the bombs.

Had the survivors learned the lesson of overusing nuclear power? Were there even enough people left to use it?

The Vault's entrance was through a broken chain-link fence, which she barely remembered from their mad dash of survival. She felt her stomach drop as she passed by the sun-bleached skeleton of a military serviceman, but she forced herself to stare at it; surely, this corpse would be the first of many she would find in the aftermath of Armageddon.

Nora knelt by the man, turning him over. The bones creaked, brittle from age, and the skull stayed behind, unmoved. She held back a wave of nausea, focusing instead on reading a set of dog tags around the dislodged neck, rubbing at the encrusted dirt. "Sergeant Marcus. Rest in peace, soldier." -she muttered, carefully removing the tags and pocketing them. Nate would've done anything and everything to get them back to the fallen soldier's family, but she doubted she'd ever find them. "I'll figure something out, I promise."

She rose, fiddling with her new inventory, recording everything on her, one by one. "Weird alien robes, wedding ring, oddly well-preserved pistol…" -she recited, assigning them all a more or less accurate weight. She skimped on the value, considering she didn't know if money even existed anymore.

Finally reaching the platform, Nora hesitated. She knew there was nothing but death down there. Astrid, for all of her demon-warrior-princess looks and personality, had clearly been shaken by Vault-tec's depravity. _She'd_ been a goddamn lawyer, before the bombs. Worst she'd seen back then had been a bloody shirt in an evidence bag.

Nora shook her head. " _Fuck me_. You'd have a way easier time with this, Nate." -she whispered, wiping away a tear.

She looked down at the pistol, and gritted her teeth. "At least those so-called romantic trips to the firing range will be good for something, huh?" -she said, sarcastic. Sniffling, she pulled the weapon from her leather belt, and flicked the safety off as she stepped on the platform and descended.


	3. The Second To Last Pod

"You shouldn't have let her go alone." -the man said. "Everything down there is pretty messed up."

Astrid shrugged. "Perhaps."

"She's not ready for it."

"Few could ever claim to be. But she'll persevere. I know it, and you do as well."

The man pursed his lips. "Still, she shouldn't have to go through it all by herself. You could've made up an excuse to keep an eye on her."

"I will be there for her, when she needs me."

"I just...I just don't want her to be alone."

Astrid's gaze softened. "Give her time. There's something truly special about Nora; the kind of fire I've only seen once or twice in an Era. The Empire may be the change this world _sorely_ needs, but the people? There's only so much we can do. I do believe our little fire will set their hearts ablaze."

* * *

The inside of the Vault was still lit, though it stank of stale water and decay. The lift down to the Vault's entrance was rather rickety, and the doors failed to close properly behind her.

The same yellow catwalk greeted her, but the situation could not be more different. No strangely cheery Vault staff, no stone-faced guards. She did spot the dried up skeleton of the Vault's head doctor, the back of his lab coat ripped open and stained brown with long since dried blood. Nora felt nauseous, but she didn't exactly feel _sorry_ about his death. She could still remember his patronizing smile, offered just before leading them to the trap in the bowels of the Vault.

"I hope you rot in hell, bastard." -she spat.

Nora walked away, searching around the guard post, finding an old, half-empty package of 10mm bullets, which she pocketed, for a grand total of two and a half clips.

Heading deeper inside, she found the corpse of a guard, still clad in riot gear. There was a baton near his hand, which she also grabbed. This, too, she knew how to use. When they were still dating, Nate had insisted on giving her lessons on self-defense. She'd never had to use them, but they'd surely come in handy in the post-apocalyptic wilderness.

She entered the Overseer's office, whose remains were slumped over on the desk. Nora grabbed his discarded glasses, trying them on, but they were merely for show, so she left them on the desk. She didn't bother reading his terminal, just plugged her Pip-Boy in, and downloaded the information.

Nora looked over to the right of the desk, and saw a small armory, smashed open - Astrid's doing, no doubt - a half-shattered glass case holding a strange, futuristic weapon inside. She grabbed it, raising an eyebrow at the weight of it.

"The Cryolator." -she read, laser-etched onto its stock. It felt very cold, though not enough to be unbearable. She found the safety and checked that it was on, then slung it over her shoulder, grabbing what looked like the ammo for it, and a bunch more boxes for her pistol.

Satisfied with her scavenging, and unable to put the rest of the Vault off her mind any longer, she drew a deep breath, and headed towards the cryo pods.

Nora found no less than a dozen skeletons on her way there, as well as two hundred dollars or so, two more batons, a mostly unused fusion core, and a bunch of Nuka-Cola bottlecaps, which she kept out of nostalgia. Nate's collection had been a great source of pride for him, even kept it in a safe in downtown Boston. Maybe one day she'd be able to add to it.

Finally, she found the cryo room. She thought she'd have a bit more time to prepare, but Astrid had left the door open. It was just the way she remembered, but the room seemed darker to her, somehow. She walked in, and didn't stop the tears from flowing; every single pod was filled with someone she'd known from Sanctuary Hills. Her neighbors, all of them good, hard-working folks, frozen in death forever. She tried to open one of their pods, but the Vault computer loudly proclaimed an error impeding the pod's opening. Checking the nearby terminal revealed that every single one of them had actually asphyxiated inside.

All of them, except for the last two pods' occupants.

Nora didn't drop to her knees, nor did she scream in agony. Her husband looked peaceful, even crowned in blood. She tried to open the pod, and was surprised that the computer did not protest. It started the defrosting sequence, and opened with a pop and a hiss.

"Oh, Nate." -she whispered, covering her mouth. She touched his cheek, ice cold even without the cryogenic freezing, and wiped away a half-frozen droplet of blood. "Jesus..."

She'd loved him with everything she'd had. For all of his unhealthy love of guns, his unyielding defense of the military, and his obsession with comic books, he'd been a good man. Even her mother, leery of every boy who'd ever looked her way, had ultimately befriended Nate. He was the best friend, husband, and father she could've ever asked for.

And now, he was dead.

She grit her teeth. "I'm gonna find him, Nate. The man with the scar. I'm gonna _fucking_ kill him, and I'm gonna kill those scientists, too. Everyone involved is _dead_. And when I find Shaun, I'll tell him: he's gonna grow up knowing his dad was the best man I ever knew. And he'll know I avenged you."

She took his hand, still somewhat stiff - from rigor mortis or the cryo-freeze, she didn't know - and gently slid his wedding ring off. She'd always berated him for constantly almost losing it, and he'd always meant to get it fitted better; they'd gotten engaged just before him getting shipped off to Anchorage, and there hadn't been any time for him to try it on. It was way too large for her own fingers, so she pulled out Sergeant Marcus' tags and took them off the chain, replacing them with Nate's ring.

With that done, she finally allowed herself to break down.

Astrid's familiar found her sat in front of his pod, her face buried in her knees. It sniffed at her and whined, softly nudging her with her massive snout.

"I'm ok, Aela. I'm ok."

The direwolf's comforting presence vanished then, replaced by Astrid's loud footsteps.

"Go on, little fire. I'll carry his body out of the Vault for a burial, or whatever rites you wish to give him. I'll bring them all."

Nora wiped at her eyes and nose, looking up at the armor-clad warrior. "Why do you call me that? 'Little fire'?"

"Your hair, of course. It is very rare in my homeland." -she replied, amused, but then looked her in the eye. "I jest. I call you little fire because of the scorching flame I saw in your eyes, in truth. Even blinded and half-paralyzed by frost, you looked at me as I held you with a gaze so blazing I nearly let you fall from shock."

Nora gave her a watery chuckled. "My eyes are green, you ridiculous woman."

"Haven't you heard? The eyes are windows to the soul. Go, Nora."

The redhead nodded, then turned away, putting her past behind her.


	4. Divinity And Humanity

"You mentioned burials, before. Is that what you do with your dead, too?" -Nora asked, fiddling with her Pip-Boy.

Astrid planted the muddy shovel in the ground, sitting on the log beside the campfire. "It was custom in Skyrim, when I was young. Each city had a Hall of the Dead, each town a simple cemetery, all consigned to and blessed by Arkay, god of the dead."

"And now?"

The Nord gave her a wry smile. "Well, the rather unfortunate side-effect of preserving bodies is that necromancers have plenty of potential minions sleeping away eternity beneath the unassuming living folk. We burn nearly all our dead in ceremonial pyres, these days." -she said, then shrugged. "Arkay doesn't seem to mind."

Nora shook her head. "Everything you say sounds out of a Grognak comic. Necromancers, really?"

Astrid smirk turned wicked, her gauntlet becoming wreathed in a purple-black aura. "It's simple magic, really. A conjuration novice could manage it."

"Is that a spell?"

"Yes. Raise Zombie. Only useful for raising weaker corpses."

"How can you tell that a corpse is weaker than another?"

"Physical strength is apparent, of course, but there is also a measure of character involved. The stronger the person's will, the harder it is to recall their soul back to their body and under your thrall."

Nora pursed her lips. "That sounds awfully non-consensual."

Astrid nodded. "It can be. Sometimes, the dead are eager to return, even to a facsimile of life, but others...let's just say death is not the worst fate imaginable. Necromancy isn't _completely_ outlawed by the Empire, especially in scholarly and military circles, but it has been looked upon with contempt ever since I can remember."

"I can imagine." -the redhead replied. Her face turned downcast. "I had thought maybe you might be able to...no, it's a stupid idea."

Astrid waved her off. "Those exist, yes. Though I doubt yours is one of them."

Nora shook her head. "I wanted to know if there was any way you could bring Nate back to life. My husband."

Astrid crossed her arms. "...there are ways. None that you would be happy with, and few I would even dare attempt."

"Tell me. _Please_."

She hummed, then began to dig through her pouch. Astrid pulled out an Amulet and a flask filled with cyan liquid. "Put this on, and drink this."

Nora frowned as she rose, and took the offered items. "...ok. Do I have to wear this around my neck?"

"No."

The redhead grunted, and wrapped the divine amulet around her right wrist. "What am I drinking?"

"A potion. It's meant to fortify one's ability to channel magicka, the substance that allows us to wield the power of the Divines."

" _Right_. And the Divines are your...what, gods?"

Astrid nodded. "The Aedra of ancient times have long since been revered by both Men and Mer. The Empire currently worships ten, though I believe in only nine. The Amulet on your wrist has the blessing of Julianos, god of knowledge and wisdom, patron of the magickal arts."

Nora opened the flask, looking intently at the carved metal circle dangling from her wrist. "Who are the other nine?"

The Nord grunted. "Let us trade, Nora. I describe a Divine, you answer a question of mine. Deal?"

The redhead smelled the flask's contents, making a curious face, then downed the potion. She very valiantly avoided spitting it out, but her scowl was impossible to hide. "That...was not _terrible_ , but not at _all_ what I expected. Kinda fishy, for some reason. Alright. Shoot."

Astrid smiled, pulling out a filled black soul gem and the Blade of Woe, starting to trim the crystal down. "How old are you?"

"That's an easy one. Twenty-five and three months." -she answered, then frowned. "Plus however many years I spent as a _popsicle_."

"' _Popsicle_ '?"

"It's a frozen sweet... _thing_. A dessert. Whatever, your turn."

Astrid chuckled. "Well, you certainly are no sweet thing. Spicy, more like." -she said, making Nora stick out her tongue in childish derision. "Let's see...there is Akatosh, the God of Time. He fathered all the _dov_ , the ageless creatures which mortals call Dragons."

"By dragons, do you mean giant, flying, fire-breathing lizards?"

"That is a _very_ apt description of a _dovah_. Especially for one who could never have seen one." -Astrid said, confused.

"They're mythical creatures. Like, I don't know, wendigos, or the Sasquatch. Dragons don't exist. Or rather, since they _do_ , they haven't been around in ages."

Astrid hummed. "I will have to ask Paarthurnax about this. Time and space bend easily to a dragon's will. It's quite possible a few errant _dov_ roamed ancient Earth."

"Is Paarthurnax a dragon?"

"Yes. A very old, very friendly one. Now, Nora, respect our deal. A query for a query, yes?"

"Right, sorry. Go for it."

Astrid pursed her lips. "What is the capital of Earth?"

Nora raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be asking things about me."

The Nord laughed. "All in good time, little fire."

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Well, Earth never really had an official capital, you know? If you were american, you might say it was Washington, or New York. If you were chinese, it'd be Beijing. We never really got past the 'sovereign nations' thing, clearly."

"Ah, this I understand. Nirn's capital is Winterhold, but only because it was _made_ so. Before it may have been Cyrodiil, or Solitude, or gods forbid, _Alinor_ , but after Alduin's defeat, the Empire desperately needed restructuring - and a well-deserved kick in the rump, to go along."

"I'm guessing it wasn't a _peaceful_ restructuring." -Nora said, sardonically.

Astrid shook her head. "It was definitely not. And so I am reminded of Talos. The Divine who was once a Man."

"He _became_ a god?"

"More or less, yes. As a mortal, Tiber Septim united all the races of Tamriel under the banner of the Second Empire, either by soft words or hard steel. He was _dovahkiin_ , Dragonborn; a man with a dragon's soul, hosted in a mortal body. He could speak their language and wield their power."

Nora gasped. "Like you, right? That magic word you said, ' _laas_ '. You said it was draconic."

"It is called _dovahzul_ , Nora. The language of Dragons." -she said, then sighed. "You are correct. I am the last Dragonborn in existence."

The redhead shook her head. "You have the soul of a _dragon_. Holy _shit_."

Astrid put up a hand. "Let us not dwell on such a heavy topic, please. I get enough of it on _my_ world."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just fucking _insane_ to think about. Ask away."

"Was Nate your only lover?"

Nora winced. "Jesus, Astrid. Not pulling any punches, huh?"

Astrid shrugged. "I meant no disrespect. It is quite common to take on various lovers on my world."

"No, I meant...nevermind. I guess I had a few boyfriends in high school and college. Maybe a couple of, uh... _forbidden_ trysts in between."

"Oh?"

Nora felt herself blush. "I...hope it doesn't bother you, but I kinda... _like_ women. Y'know, the same way I like men."

Astrid gave her a bewildered look. " _Why_ would that bother me, Nora?"

Nora blinked. "I mean...it doesn't? That's great! It's just...kind of a surprising attitude. Being queer just isn't...socially _accepted_ here. Or, hopefully, _wasn't_."

"How very strange. I remember the Thalmor of my time spouting some nonsense of the sort." -she recalled. "It is not the sole reason I ran their Justiciars through at every opportunity, but it was certainly one of them."

"I wish you had been around to run some people around here through, too." -Nora said, forlorn. "My mother knew, and she was cool with it, though she never understood it. Dad probably would've accepted me, too, but he died before I realized I was bisexual. Rads poisoning, from working on the first prototype for this thing." -she said, holding up her Pip-Boy. "Nate knew, too. We were best friends in high school, around the time I, uh, _started_ , so I told him about it. He was pretty jealous, but he kept the secret for me. I mean, he _understood_ ; Janine was the prettiest girl in the entire school. Never thought she'd ask _me_ out."

"You fail to do your beauty justice, Nora. This Janine clearly knew better."

"Oh, shut it. You make it sound like I'm the most desirable woman you've ever seen."

Astrid shook her head. "Not to me, though to have you compete with Ysolda would be most unfair."

"Who is she?"

" _Was_. We were bonded before the eyes of Mara, goddess of love. She died, long ago - murdered by Thalmor assassins while I was away, defending Tamriel from the warlord Miraak."

Nora sighed. "Oh. I'm sorry, Astrid. I guess...we're a lot more alike than I thought."

"That, we are. I only hope I can someday meet her in Sovngarde, that we may forever rest together."

"Am I right in assuming that's what you've named your afterlife?"

Astrid nodded. "Aye. The souls of Nords who have died in valiant ways will always have a place in Shor's domain."

Nora pursed her lips. "I wish I was that confident about what happens after death. You guys seem to have it all figured out."

"Rest easy, Nora. I will ensure your soul reaches whatever afterlife you desire."

The redhead snorted. "I get to _choose_? No, no, wait: I have a _soul_?"

"Of _course_ you have a soul. Did you think they were exclusive to the denizens of Nirn? Every living being in the universe has one." -Astrid said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out another black soul gem. "See these? Tell me, how are they different?"

"Well, one's new, and the other you've been peeling like a potato."

Astrid rolled her eyes. "I'm _shaping_ it. Trying to make it pass off as a jewel. Look closer, Nora."

Nora squinted, and gasped. "The first one, it's...filled with light."

"Not light, little fire. _Life_. These are soul gems; magical crystals whereupon a soul can be kept, captive or otherwise."

The former prisoner stared, entranced. "You're saying...someone's soul is in there."

"Indeed."

"Wow. Can I...touch it?"

"You can _keep_ it, if you'd like." -Astrid said, tossing her the newly shaped gem. She'd chosen a rough oval shape for it, ideal for an amulet or necklace.

Nora caught it, then stared at the leftover shards. "Don't those matter?"

"No. At least, as long as you don't lose that one."

The redhead held the gem, examined it closely. "This is really morbid, but...can I ask who's in here?"

Astrid pocketed the empty gem, and pulled an old book from her inventory. "If you truly wish to know, read this, and I'll tell you in the morning."

Nora frowned, but still rose and grabbed the offered tome. The redhead opened it, and scowled. "I can't read this. I don't recognize any of the symbols."

"Read it anyway. Every line, every paragraph. Believe that Julianos will allow you to understand."

Nora looked at the Amulet. "God of knowledge...that's what you said, right?"

"Intelligence and logic, wisdom and knowledge. Without him, our wit is weak, unable to tell truth from falsehood. Pray to him, and perhaps he'll grant you his blessing."

"I...don't know how, Astrid."

"What is prayer, if not a conversation between Man and Divine? Just talk to him, Nora. Talk, and believe he will listen."


	5. Till Death Do Us Part

Nora dreamed of fire.

Columns of it, raining from the skies, cleansing the land, yet leaving nothing but ashes and cinders in their wake. It was beautiful, but Nora didn't want any of it.

She had seen it before, after all, seconds before the rest of her life had begun.

The flames bloomed from the earth, now, enormous pyres in the distance, in that distinctive shape, the one they had always been warned about - the one she had always feared. Amused, she held her thumb up, trying to gauge how far the nuclear explosion was. She was safe, if the ever-smiling blond mascot was to be believed.

The ground burst beneath her feet, then, and the infernal heat turned her flesh to bone, to ashes, to nothing.

Nora woke up, the sunlight blinding her for a second. The campfire had long since been extinguished, but the sun's heat was more than warm enough - her hairline was even dotted with a little sweat. Aela slumbered beside her, softly snoring out air she didn't even need. Nora rubbed at her eyes, trying to chase away the bruising she no doubt had acquired from staying up to 'read' the book with the flaming hand on the cover.

She felt dumb, quite frankly. She'd done as Astrid had asked, taking in every line and paragraph, absorbing everything without understanding a single thing. Sure, the book _had_ vanished as soon as she had finished, but what the heck was she supposed to conclude from that?

Nora rose and stretched, wincing as her joints popped. The pain of cryo-sleep was still there, a ghost of what it had been, but present nonetheless. She looked around, seeing no one, and disrobed, grudgingly slipping on the blue and gold jumpsuit.

She was strapping on a holster for her pistol when she heard Astrid approach, humming along to an unfamiliar tune. The blonde raised an eyebrow as she spotted her, and set down the bag she was carrying on the log she'd used as a bed.

"That is a good look on you, Nora. Makes you a rather easy target, but I cannot argue with that figure."

"Well, I _did_ audition to be Boston's Nuka-Girl when I was eighteen." -Nora said, amused. "Nate always said I should've been a pin-up model."

Astrid hummed. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well? Yeah. Much? Not really. I don't know if the book thing is what passes for a practical joke on Nirn, but I can't say I appreciated the humor."

"I make for a poor jester, little fire. This was no attempt at humor; if the spell tome vanished, then you have succeeded in learning Flames."

Nora blinked. "...spell tome? Is that what that book was?"

Astrid shrugged. "Not much of a page-turner, I'll admit, but it _is_ the most efficient way to learn."

"You're telling me reading a bunch of alien gibberish means I can use magic now?"

"That would be an accurate summary of what happened, yes."

Nora leaned on a nonchalant Aela, dumbfounded. "Holy crap. How do I do it? How do I cast the spell?"

"Depends on the spell. Flames are simple, the most basic Destruction magic a novice learns. Fire is eager to consume, and thus it will come if you promise it fuel."

"That makes _zero_ sense."

Astrid rolled her eyes. "If you _really want_ to burn something, the Flames will appear. Go on, try it."

Nora looked at her hands, then at her surroundings. She spotted a dried up shrub, and imagined it engulfed in flames.

Nothing happened.

"This isn't working."

"I can feel the magicka swirling within you. Your body must be adapting; perhaps another trigger could activate the spell. Think of your enemies, Nora; of the man with the scar, of Vault-Tec and the fury you feel towards them."

The request was easy to comply with. Nora closed her eyes, and imagined her husband's murderer. Balding, scarred, and cold-blooded. An armored shoulder, a ridiculously oversized revolver.

 _At least we still have the back-up_ , he'd said.

"Open your eyes, Nora."

She did, and nearly screamed. Her hands were _completely_ enveloped in flickering flames. "Oh my God! This is fucking terrifying!"

"Does the fire hurt?"

It didn't. "It's... _warm_ , but it's not burning me. It's...comforting, like holding someone's hand."

Astrid smiled. "You are a fast learner. I was a much slower study, when it came to the school of Destruction. Conjuration has always been my strongest, much to Mother's annoyance."

"Was your mother a witch?" -Nora asked, still entranced with her hands.

The alien snorted. "No, not at all. Breen was a soldier, in her youth. Then a thief, for most of her adult life. When she found and adopted me, she became a huntress, and kept much of the Wind district in Whiterun fed. After I discovered the dragon soul within me, she joined me in saving our world from Alduin, the World-Eater, then became Master of the Thieves Guild for the rest of her life."

Nora filed away everything she didn't understand for later. "You're...very open about her criminal past."

Astrid shrugged. "The Guild stole only from the rich and powerful under her guidance. Few are worthy of wealth large enough that they cannot defend from thieves."

"Well, _that's_ not how it worked here at all."

The Dragonborn smirked. "The Empire _does_ have laws, Nora. I assure you, the Guild has long since been dissolved."

"Still weird." -she muttered. "Now, what the heck do I do with _these_?" -she said, waving her flaming hands.

"The spell you wield creates a powerful stream of fire, flowing from your palms." -Astrid replied, crossing her arms.

Nora frowned with concentration, then pointed an open palm towards the bush. Before she could even think about how ridiculous she must look, a gout of flame shot from her hand and caught the dried up plant, immediately beginning to consume it.

"Holy _crap!_ "

Astrid loudly cackled. "Well done!"

Nora couldn't help her grin. "I just cast a fucking magic spell!"

"You did indeed." -Astrid said, her gauntlets suddenly becoming encrusted with frost. The Dragonborn shot a gust of pure ice towards the bush, extinguishing the fire. "How do you feel?"

"A lot more willing to read weird vanishing alien books, that's for sure. What's next?"

"Learning to pace yourself, I'm afraid. Try to use the spell again."

Nora did, but no fire stream appeared this time. "What the hell? It's...not working. What happened?"

Astrid gave her an apologetic tilt of her head. "Your magicka reserves are at a minimum. You are like a child, unable to hold a spell for long."

The redhead frowned. "Well, shit. How do I improve them?"

"Practice, mainly, though potions and enchantments can certainly help."

"So, what, I can shoot fire for, like, two seconds and that's it?"

"For now, yes. Persevere, however, and you will soon be able to cast any spell imaginable." -she promised, her hands glowing with familiar purple-black energy.

Astrid cast a spell, and a vortex appeared before them, a massive, misshapen figure bursting from its center. "A Frost Atronach to serve as your thrall…" -she suggested, then became _covered_ in flames. "A Flame Cloak to ward off attackers..." -she said, _then_ vanished from view completely. "Or perhaps you would rather disappear before their very eyes?"

Nora held her hands up, excited, looking around for the Nord. "Okay, okay! I get it. Sorry I got a little impatient."

"No need for apologies, Nora." -Astrid said, behind her, dispelling the ice golem. "I did not warn you beforehand. You deserved to know, as much as you deserve to know whose soul is in your pocket."

The former captive raised her eyebrows, pulling out the carved crystal. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten." -she muttered, turning it over in her hand. "Who is it?" -she asked softly.

Astrid held Nora's shoulders. "I...am a woman of many regrets, little fire. There is much of my past that I wish I could change. I saved my world, but I could not save the love of my life. And so, I...wanted to atone, at least a little. To save the love of _your_ life."

Nora's smile disappeared. "...what?"

The blonde looked at the soul gem. "I was too late to save anyone but you, and yet...when I found you, _he_ remained by your side, frantically trying to set you free. Unable to even touch your prison."

The redhead backed out of Astrid's grip. "Oh God..." -she gasped, covering her mouth as she stared at the crystal in her hand. "What have you _done_?"

"I listened to his story, to his pleas. I offered him the only vessel I could, the only way for him to remain by your side."

Nora dropped the crystal. "Don't say it, Astrid. _Please_ , don't do this to me."

Astrid frowned. "It was _his_ choice, Nora. He could not bear to leave you or Shaun behind."

"He's _dead!_ " -she shouted, horrified.

"Again...I did not say he had survived." -Astrid said, softly, kneeling to pick up the soul gem, which began to glow brighter in her hands.

Nora closed her eyes. "God...that's...in the Vault, when you said that, I...my _cheek_ , it felt warm." -she whispered.

She froze; it was happening again.

"Like that?" -Astrid asked, amused.

The redhead turned, stared at the ghost of her husband, and screamed.

* * *

"That could have gone better." -Astrid admitted, begrudging. She put away the last of the newly washed spoons away in her magical storage.

Nate sighed. "It's my fault. I was so eager to comfort her, that I forgot about letting her grieve."

"I do not believe waiting further would have improved this scenario."

"Maybe not, but I don't think it would've hurt her worse." -he said, shaking his head. "I hope she comes back soon."

"As do I. Cathartic as violence may be, battling giant insects in what remains of your old home is hardly what I would consider a boon for her mental health."

Nate pursed his lips. "On that, we agree." -he said, then 'sat' on the log Nora had slept on. "How long will it take until she can summon me?"

Astrid shrugged. "Not _too_ long, especially with my blessing; for someone previously untouched by magic, she seems to have an affinity for spellcasting. I wonder if that is a trait all of mankind shares."

"Couldn't tell ya."

"I hope we find other survivors on this quest. It would be an interesting experiment."

Nate narrowed his eyes. "You...don't seem like the sciencey type. No offense."

Astrid smirked. "I may not be a scholar, but I _am_ a curious sort."

"Right."

They both turned as the sound of footsteps crunching on dried leaves and, oddly, _fire_ approached. Nora walked up the trail from Sanctuary Hills, now decked in what looked like a somewhat flimsy but polished, olive colored chestplate over the blue jumpsuit, and a pair of darkened eyewear.

She also _wasn't_ alone. Alongside her floated what appeared to be a bulbous metal automaton, with three 'eyes' protruding from its spherical chassis, held aloft by a flaming thruster, and armed with a circular saw, a tong-like appendage, and what looked like a flamethrower.

Nate rose, eyes wide with disbelief. "Codsworth!?"

The somewhat rusty construct's eyes widened as well. "Sir? Oh, thank the maker! I told you, mum, I told you! There was absolutely no _way_ , none! Master Nate could not _possibly_ have suffered that... _horrid_ fate you insisted on describing."

Nora sighed. "I tried to tell him, but he's...a little loopy."

Nate winced. "Well...at least he survived the bombs."

The redhead nodded. "I'll work on him later, but...Nate, you're not gonna believe it. It's been _two-hundred years_."

"A little over two-hundred and ten, actually!" -Codsworth cheerfully corrected.

Nate balked. " _Jesus_...two whole _centuries_? Is there even anyone still alive?"

Nora slung her newly acquired weapon over her shoulder. "Well, there's good news, and bad news. The good news is, not even the nuclear apocalypse and the irradiated abominations it left behind managed to _completely_ destroy the human race. Codsworth says there's people as close by as Concord."

"And the bad news?"

"They are a rather rowdy bunch, I'm afraid." -Codsworth said, hesitant.

Nora rolled her eyes. "They _shot_ him, Nate."

Astrid crossed her arms. "What of Shaun?"

The redhead sighed, defeated. "Codsworth hasn't seen anyone around Sanctuary Hills in decades."

Nate groaned. "Goddamn it. Where could they have taken him?"

"Perhaps the people of Concord could be reasoned with? We _do_ make for a rather imposing party…" -Codsworth suggested, staring pointedly in Astrid's direction.

" _Do we_? Let's do a headcount, yeah? We have an alien barbarian over there, a defrosted mom with a _law degree_ over here, and a _fucking ghost_."

Codsworth held up his saw arm. "Don't forget about me!"

Nora pursed her lips. "Until I can transfer you into, like, a Sentry Bot chassis, I'm not taking you into battle, buddy."

"I do appreciate the concern, mum, but I must insist: I _will_ travel with you in search of young Shaun." -the robot said, resolute.

The redhead groaned. " _Fine_ , but you're still getting an upgrade later. In any case, I don't think we have a choice."

Astrid smirked. "I am already eager to visit this Concord."

Nora gave the hybrid a withering look. " _Don't_ be. It's probably half rubble, half giant spiders, or some other monstrous crap."


	6. The Long Road to Concord

The Red Rocket between Concord and Sanctuary could be seen in the distance, rusted and abandoned, but miraculously standing. Codsworth, Aela, and Astrid - now encumbered with the Cryolator, far too heavy for Nora to just lug around - merrily led the way, chatting the boredom of the walk away. They hadn't found a thing that might suggest any other human presence around yet.

Nora was... _angry_. Also sad, and a little bit relieved, but for the most part, furious.

"I see the floor safe was a good investment. I can't believe my armor and service rifle survived the bombs." -Nate said, _floating_ beside her.

His widow sighed. "Don't do that, Nate."

He frowned, confused. "Do what?"

She shot him a dangerous look. "Don't talk to me like everything's normal. You're _dead_. Gone for good. I saw your brains splattered on the panel behind your corpse."

"Hurt like hell, yeah. I remember, hon."

Nora pinched the bridge of her nose. " _Stop it_. Just...I don't know how to process this, okay? Our son is missing, and you're here, but _not_ here, and my _savior_ turned out to be your soul's fucking _jailor_. It's too much, goddamn it."

Nate crossed his arms. "Is that what you think Astrid did? Nora, she _saved_ me. I kind of went mad, trying to break you free from the pod. Scratch that, I _lost_ it. If she hadn't given me a place in the Soul Cairn, I'd still be a mindless ghost, haunting Vault 111."

"I don't even know what the fuck a Soul Cairn _is_. Nate, I don't understand how you can be so calm about this."

"I'm _not_. I want to find Shaun and make the bastard who killed me pay, but...well, as cliché as it sounds, death gave me perspective. I'm glad you're alive, that Codsworth is _still_ somehow around...hell, I'm even glad I'm here for you to resent me."

"I don't _resent_ you. Jesus, Nate, I love you just as much as I did two-hundred years ago. I just...God, I'm gonna sound like an ungrateful bitch, but...how am I supposed to move on, now?"

Nate paused. "Nora, I'm _dead_. I don't expect you to...dedicate yourself to a _literal_ ghost. Honestly, I...honey, I hope you find someone _alive_ to love."

Nora gasped, incredulous. " _See_? How is it that _easy_ for you!?"

"It's _not_. I have to move on too, don't I? But I'm _willing_ to make that sacrifice because I don't want you to be alone, Nora. To take care of our baby boy alone, once we find him. Maybe it doesn't have to be someone you truly _love_ , but my hope is that you never have to be by yourself, honey. That you surround yourself with the best of the people left on this miserable rock."

"Assuming anyone decent is left." -Nora said, glum.

"That's not you, and you know it."

"What, _realistic_? You heard Codsworth. They attacked the most polite robot I've ever met just as soon as they saw him."

"I meant that you're not cynical. That was always _my_ job. You've always been the one to see the best in everyone."

Nora shook her head. "People change, Nate."

"Yeah. Sometimes for the better. That argument goes both ways, Nora."

The redhead sighed. "Let's stop, alright? I don't want to waste these few precious moments we have together arguing."

As if on cue, the ghost of her husband vanished, leaving her alone. Astrid approached her. Her helm was back on her head, so Nora couldn't tell what expression she had on for her. "Is that going to happen every time?" -she asked, annoyed.

"I apologize, Nora. I realize this outcome is...far from perfect, but it is the best I could do."

Nora sighed. "I'm sorry too. I don't mean to be ungrateful, but this whole situation isn't doing any favors to my psyche."

Astrid nodded. "I understand."

"I guess you would. Just...hard to accept the reality of being a widow when I can just see my husband whenever I want." -she said, bringing up her weapon. "Let's get ready. The truck stop is coming up."

The alien hummed, drawing her massive sword. "Of course. I will summon Nate again on your command."

"Not now. Can't afford being distracted." -Nora said, scanning the building ahead. The Red Rocket was surprisingly intact; aside from the complete absence of windows, and the myriad objects strewn about, the building itself seemed undamaged. With a few days' work, it might even make for a decent shelter.

Astrid took off her helm and wiped her brow. "Your automaton is most amusing."

Nora smiled wistfully. "You think so?"

Astrid nodded. "Quite a bit smarter than I would have predicted. Our own, the _animunculi,_ are built only for battle. I could not fathom striking such a pleasant conversation with one."

"Ah, well. You guys are missing out, I think. Robots make for great companions. What did you and Codsworth talk about?"

The alien shrugged. "You, mostly. He told me you built him."

Nora chuckled. "Yeah, for the most part. Nate _tried_ to help, the grease monkey, but he wasn't great at it; building a robot is a lot more delicate than servicing a suit of power armor, or cleaning a rifle."

"I thought you were a woman of law." -Astrid noted, curious.

"I was, yeah. Got my degree, worked a couple dozen cases, and then I got pregnant with Shaun. Before _that_ , though, my mom taught me how to code and program. Terminals, robots, all of that. She knew the inner workings of a Protectron like the back of her hand. It was only a hobby for me, though."

"Is that what she did for a living?"

"Pretty much. She worked for General Atomics when she was younger, but then got fired after getting accused of corporate espionage for dating my dad, who worked at RobCo. She had a fairly successful independent workshop in downtown Los Angeles, last I knew." -she said, wistful.

Astrid hummed. "I see."

"Might be a little fucked up of me to say, but I hope the nukes got her. Can't imagine how horrible things must've been after the bombs dropped, if _this_ is how the world has settled." -she said, setting down the laser rifle on a nearby stool.

"I understand, Nora."

"Figured you might. You're very... _pragmatic_. Anyway, let's talk about our next step, ok?"

"Of course."

Nora sat at the counter. "Concord is about a half-hour walk from here. From what Codsworth said, it's _crawling_ with people he called 'raiders', which, from what I gather, stands in for 'bad guys'."

Astrid smirked. "I am no stranger to pillagers and bandits. You needn't worry."

"Listen, I'm sure _you_ can handle yourself. Not so much in my case. I'm no good in a fight." -she admitted, pulling out her pistol. "I wasted half my ammo on three mutated roaches and two giant houseflies."

The Nord raised an eyebrow. "Do you wish to remain behind?"

"Of _course_ not. I'm saying we should work out a strategy of some kind, before we arrive."

Astrid crossed her arms. "I suppose we should. What did you have in mind?"

"That...ice golem? The thing you summoned yesterday, could you do it again?"

"Yes." -Astrid said. "I have a variety of summoning spells at my disposal; _atronachs_ , bonemen... _dremora_ , if necessary."

"Alright. Assuming they attack us like they did Codsworth, I'm thinking you throw the toughest thing you can at them, to draw their fire. We hang back and shoot from cover. You said you've got a bow, right?"

Astrid chuckled. "I can conjure one, sure. But what if _I_ am the toughest thing I have?"

Nora frowned. "Be serious, Astrid. I'd rather you risk a magic _thing_ than your own life."

"I _am_ serious. I assure you, I am at no risk of death. I have faced much graver threats than a simple group of bandits."

The redhead groaned. "They have _guns_. You have a _sword_ , Astrid. They'll fill you full of lead before you ever make it close enough to swing that thing."

Astrid sighed. She handed Nora her helm, which she hesitantly took. "You are at least somewhat attuned to magicka now. Tell me what you feel from it."

She held it, forcing herself to stare at the ever darkened and deeply unsettling eye sockets. There was _something_ there, she could feel it. "Fire and brimstone...like I'm holding my own little piece of Hell." -she said. It _hurt_ , but the pain wasn't physical.

"This armor is both blessing and curse." -Astrid admitted, pointing at the sinister black veins creeping up her neck. "My reward for saving Nirn, and my punishment for rejecting godhood. So long as I continue to wear it, I cannot die. I may be harmed, even defeated...but I will survive anything."

Nora managed not to drop the headpiece. " _Godhood_? Jesus, you _are_ just like that Talos guy." -she said, almost in reverence. "I don't suppose you have a spare?" -she joked.

"I'm afraid not." -Astrid answered wryly.

"I...guess I can live with you leading us, then."

The nord nodded. "My summons and I shall charge ahead, should the need arise."

Nora pursed her lips. "Alright." -she said.

Astrid sat on the remaining stool at the counter. "This is what your world looked like, eh?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. A little tidier and a lot less broken, but yes. This is a Red Rocket truck stop." -she said, then pointed at the coolant pumps outside. "Used to be that everyone would bring their vehicles here and get them topped off on reactor coolant. My mom said that these places dispensed _gasoline_ in her time, but I was too young to ever see a hydrocarbon-powered car in real life."

"It's hard to imagine." -Astrid admitted. "This world seems so quiet, so... _dead_. To think even this small place was once bustling with activity…"

Nora looked at the little bit of wasteland near the Red Rocket. This had been part of her daily route, to and from work. It'd been a half an hour trip on the car, but now...well, half the road was blown to hell, and there was no way to move but _on foot_. She wouldn't be surprised if it took a few days, now.

"Miss Nora! I seem to have found a friend!" -Codsworth called, from the outside of the building, snapping her out of her reverie.

Nora raised an eyebrow, and went over, her pistol at the ready. She stopped when she reached her robot; Codsworth was in the process of happily scratching an honest-to-goodness german shepherd's ears.

"Holy shit." -she gasped.

The dog, a male, seemed fully grown and strangely friendly; _familiar_ , even. Aela sniffed him, curious, and the dog simply returned the greeting, undisturbed by the massive spectral wolf. As she approached, the canine's ears shot up, and he ran to her.

"Now where the heck did _you_ come from, little guy?" -she wondered, bending down to pet him. She checked the rough, weathered leather collar around his neck, and read the crudely made metal tag dangling from it. "'Dogmeat'? Is that your name?" -Nora asked. The name had been scratched on what looked like a flattened Nuka-Cola bottle cap.

Dogmeat barked, clearly happy to be recognized. "You've _gotta_ be a purebred. I can't believe there's an _actual_ german shepherd still around. Shit, you look just like Rex..." -she said, wistful.

"Who is Rex?" -Astrid asked, leaning on the Red Rocket's entrance.

Nora sighed. "Before the bombs, Nate and I had a dog, just like this one. Same breed and everything. Rex was _supposed_ to be Nate's service dog, but we got swindled." -she said, amused. "He barely knew how to sit, let alone help Nate around the house."

Taking in Astrid's confused expression, Nora shrugged. "Nate got injured in the war. Some kind of nerve damage to his left leg that no amount of stimpaks or expensive consultations were ever able to cure."

"I see."

"Anyway, we lost Rex. The little jerk jumped the back fence a week before the bombs, and never came back." -she said, forlorn, but couldn't help smiling when Dogmeat got on its back and offered his tummy for scratching. Nora complied, of course.

"Dogmeat dropped something as he approached, mum." -Codsworth said, handing her a wet piece of crumbled up cardboard. Nora took it, wincing from the feel of cold dog slobber and dirt.

Astrid walked up to her. "What does it say?"

Nora read the message. "' _Help us. Under fire at the Museum in Concord_.'"

The dog stood back up, suddenly alert. He barked expectantly, staring her pointedly in the eye. "They sent you to find help, didn't they?"

Dogmeat barked again, trotting off for a dozen feet and turning back, waiting for them all. Aela joined the comparably tiny canine, and even Codsworth looked back and forth between the pups and her, raring to go.

Astrid patted Nora's shoulder. "This is a good omen, my friend. A beast's call to action can only mean goddess Kynareth watches over us. We are meant to follow this path."

Nora raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming she's one of the nice ones."

"She has ever been a friend to mankind, yes."

The redhead sighed. "I'm really not ready for this." -she warned. "I trust you'll watch my back."

"Just your back?" -Astrid teased.

Nora rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

The nord nodded. "I do. I will fight to protect you, but you must always remember: there's a fire within you. Bring it outside, let the world behold it."

Astrid donned her helm, and jogged away towards her familiar. Sucking in breath, Nora grabbed her late husband's laser rifle, and followed.


	7. The Museum of Freedom

**Unrelated, but please do not leave reviews if you're going to ask about other fics I haven't been able to update in a while (unless it's Whispers of Darkness which is connected to this one, some time in the future.**

 **Thanks, and please, enjoy!**

* * *

The mad dash to Concord took a good ten minutes, but they began to hear the _tac-tac-tac_ Astrid had come to associate with gunfire almost as soon as they departed the truck stop.

It was immediately apparent that Concord was very different from Sanctuary Hills. Few of the buildings she spotted on their approach seemed appropriate for housing, the town seemingly filled instead with long-since defunct stores and other such trading posts.

Astrid had had a feeling that there would be no diplomacy to be found when they arrived, and she had been right. The first live human other than Nora she had seen on Earth spotted her, running towards his position behind a barricade of sandbags near the main street, levelled his weapon, and shot at her without a second thought.

The slug pinged off her chestplate, harmless, as she had predicted. The attacker seemed shocked, but still managed to keep firing. By then, however, Astrid had thrown up a ward, and the bullets bounced against the translucent shield. She pulled Alduin's Fang from her back, reached him, and ran him through, his meager leather and cloth 'armor' providing little more resistance than his flesh and bones.

The man sputtered, blood pouring from the newly opened wound. He coughed crimson, and dropped his crudely made weapon. " _Fuck_." -he gurgled, vital fluid spilling down his lips and chin. Astrid rolled her eyes, drew out the greatsword, and swiftly ended his torment by sliding it across his neck.

Aela and Dogmeat ran past her, ferocious snarls on their snouts. Astrid cackled madly and followed, shaking the dripping ichor from her blade.

Oblivion broke loose upon Concord, as they clashed against the raiders. There were easily over two dozen, perhaps closer to three, all in the process of attacking the Museum of Freedom - a larger, central building at the end of Concord's main street, colored crimson, and seemingly defended by a single man perched on a balcony, picking off the more idiotic raiders with a powerful energy weapon.

The bandits hurled insults, spit, and bullets at them, but they lacked any sort of discipline, let alone a defensive formation. The direwolf in their midst, of course, only served to make things worse.

Astrid took to the fight with an energy she hadn't felt in years. These were no slow, fragile draugr; untrained and poorly equipped as they might have been, these raiders were quick on their feet, and hardy enough to put up a fight, especially with their numbers. She ran from victim to victim, stabbing, beheading, and cleaving the fools lucky enough to have been missed by the brutal canines. Aela left corpse after mangled corpse in her wake, tearing their bodies in half or ripping them open, while Dogmeat avidly dove for exposed throats and poorly armored arms and legs.

Finally joining the fight, Codsworth ran in with a cheerful ' _Tally ho!_ ' - whatever _that_ meant - and a whirl of his deadly appendages. By no means a killing machine, the automaton nevertheless slew a couple of raiders that _tried_ to flank her, one of them immolated, the other ripped open by a swipe of his gyrating saw.

"My coolant has never pumped harder! These raiders are no match for our fighting prowess, eh Miss Astrid?" -Codsworth asked her, while she conjured a bow and shot a raider - firing from the roof of a nearby store - through the throat.

She smirked. "Indeed! Already, they try to escape." -she sneered. At least a dozen raiders had run inside the crimson building, by her reckoning, and five more of them had started running towards a trap.

A trap which Nora had both conceived, and sprung.

The redhead knew Concord like the back of her hand, and seeing it still standing had evidently been a relief - not just for nostalgia's sake, but for the fact that she could plan accordingly, knowing the Museum of Freedom's location. She had been the one to propose a frontal assault, betting that any survivors would probably choose an escape route with better cover, towards the southeast.

Thus, Nora had set up on the second story of a nearby house, from which she could cover that road - and from which she began to blast away with her own energy weapon. Trapped between Nora's laserfire and her conjured arrows, the last of the raiders outside crumpled swiftly.

Astrid roared in triumph, dispelling her conjured bow and withdrawing her greatsword from the corpse of a nearby bandit. Aela howled, and Dogmeat barked happily, his snout dripping with raider blood.

From the balcony, the man caught their attention. "Hey! Man, I don't know who - or _what_ \- you are, but I don't care. _Thank you._ You guys just saved our lives."

"Well met!" -Astrid shouted. "I shall accept your gratitude when the last of these _raiders_ has been slain."

The man, dark-skinned and topped with a peculiar hat, frowned. "What do you...oh, _crap_ , they went inside? Please, you have to help! There's wounded and elderly here."

Nora jogged up to them, her rifle slung behind her back, the Overseer's pistol in her hands, ready for action.

Astrid nodded. "Worry not, friend. We will handle these bandits."

The man hurried back inside when the sounds of gunfire began again. She looked at a very pale Nora, who seemed to be trying her hardest not to stare at the disemboweled corpse at her feet. "No time for planning this, Nora."

"Agreed. We gotta save these people." -she said, utterly determined. "Lead the way, Dragonborn."

* * *

The fight inside of the museum was a _lot_ more complicated than the one outside. For one, the raiders had plenty of cover, and the advantage of the high ground.

Problem number two? Half the museum was missing. Most of the roof had caved in, owing to the fact that a Vertibird had crashed on top of the building, likely when the EMP from the nuke hit it.

Nora knelt behind Astrid and her seemingly impenetrable, two-handed Ward spell, taking potshots at the raiders with her ten-mil. She'd run out of power cells for the laser rifle because of her sniping idea, which she now regretted; the handgun was a lot less accurate, and didn't seem to be nearly as lethal as the rifle.

"This is getting us nowhere!" -she hissed, holding Dogmeat's collar. The dog obediently stayed put, though he was clearly eager to run to the nearest enemy.

"Agreed! I may be able to alleviate their suppression, but I require a free hand." -she suggested, chagrined.

Nora winced, looking around. To her right, there was an open hallway, that had led to the Revolutionary War exhibit in her time. If she recalled correctly, it also connected with the back of the Museum, from where she could possibly flank the raiders.

"I'm running for it!" -she shouted, and let Dogmeat's collar go, both of them zooming right. She heard bullets whiz by her head, impacting a wooden railing behind her, showering her in splinters. Nora slid into the room, ending up in a tangle with Dogmeat.

Patting her body, she sighed in relief; she was unscathed. The dog licked her face, urging her to rise. Nora did, as she heard the telltale sound of one of Astrid's portals, accompanied by the raiders' shouts of fear and anger. She walked through the small hallway, finding the exhibit she remembered, seemingly untouched by time. She scanned the room, finding nothing but mannequins dressed in red frock coats and tricorns, holding ancient muskets.

" _Creepy_." -she muttered, walking past them.

The back of the room led to another narrow passageway, which in turn opened to the back of the museum - the part behind the security gate. She risked a peek and saw that the floor had caved in to the basement, where she spotted a seemingly functional fusion generator behind a reinforced mag-locked door. Two raiders were taking cover behind the pillars lining the central staircase, unaware of her presence still.

She took aim, and shot the farthest one in the head, sending bits of brain and a spray of red mist flying. As if on cue, Dogmeat raced towards the shocked enemy left alive, leaping onto her and closing his maw around her exposed neck. Nora winced as she heard the desperate, gurgling cries of the rapidly bleeding out raider.

She jogged up the stairs. "Good boy." -she said, trying not to think too hard about the copious amounts of blood clinging to the dog's fur. Nora shot the writhing raider once in the forehead, putting her out of her misery.

Nora _also_ tried not to think about how her lunch was suspiciously _not_ trying to escape her body. Reloading her weapon - the last full clip, worryingly enough - she tensed as she felt magic reverberate through her body.

" **FUS-RO-DAH!** " -none other than Astrid shouted, and a wave of momentarily unbearable pressure filled the entire Museum. She looked up, only to see a raider soaring through the air. He crashed against the back wall of the Museum, hard enough to crack the wood, and fell in a crumpled heap between the raiders _she'd_ killed, dead before he even landed.

Nora looked towards the lobby, and found herself bracing as Astrid cleaved through the security gate with an ease that betrayed her monumental strength. A dark purple skeleton shambled in behind her, bow and arrows at the ready.

"Well done, Nora." -she praised her. "There remain two living raiders in the building, by my account."

The redhead wiped her brow and nodded, looking at the blonde's skeletal thrall, which returned her stare with bright blue lights instead of eyes. "Where are they?"

Astrid hummed, breathed in deeply. " **LAAS**." -she whispered, the dragon word making her now-enhanced blood thrum with power.

Nora scanned their surroundings, and spotted seven glowing red lights, beside Astrid and herself. Five were near the balcony - Nora assumed they were with the guy who'd thanked them for the rescue - and two more were holed up on the same floor, apart from the others.

"There." -she pointed. "That's probably them."

Astrid nodded. "Quite so. Leave them to me."

Nora hummed her agreement, holstering her weapon. "Come on, Dogmeat." -she said, heading down towards the fusion generator. The loyal canine quickly followed.

There was a terminal beside the locked door, so she got to work. Her Pip-Boy's software was pretty barebones when it came to hacking - she'd have to rewrite all of her old programs, unfortunately - but the password was stupidly simple to figure out.

"F-R-E-E-D-O-M." -she muttered, shaking her head as the terminal pinged with her successful access. "What a joke. This thing could've blown up Concord if it got messed with, and they used ' _freedom_ ' as the password." -she told Dogmeat, who eagerly started to lick his soiled paws.

She opened up the door, punched in the core's release, and yanked it out, easy. Nora checked the reading on the side. "Seventeen percent." -she whispered, scowling. It was, she supposed, more juice left than she could've expected after two-hundred and ten years of seemingly continuous operation. She pocketed the thing and headed back up the stairs, where the sounds of battle seemed to be dying down.

Nora passed by a bunch of overturned desks, a duffel bag filled with cash and ammo, and a small stash of bottle caps, all of which she shouldered. On the way to Astrid, she also found two bodies; a man with an arrow through his eye socket, and a woman messily cleaved in half.

Up on the third floor, she yelped in surprise when an upright raider came out of the doorway, only to notice that the man's chest was oozing a thick, purple-black fluid from a gaping _hole_ , his veins darkened and his eyes glazed over.

"I apologize," -Astrid said, "but this one refused to perish properly."

"So...you turned him into a zombie?" -she asked, in disbelief.

"It was an instinctual thing." -Astrid replied, shrugging. The dark magicks lost their hold on the corpse, and his flesh turned to ash, his weapons and garments falling into the dusty pile left behind.

Nora sighed. "Both of them dead?"

Astrid nodded. "These _raiders_ do not seem to comprehend the concept of surrender."

"Yeah, they don't seem very smart. Let's talk with the survivors." -she said, holstering the pistol.

The Nord followed her to the door marked 'Administration', shaking the blood from the odd longsword and returning it to the sheath on her back. Nora breathed in deeply, and knocked on the door.

"My rifle's pointed your way, so don't even think about it." -the man from before threatened.

"There's really no need for that. The raiders are all dead."

Muffled discussion followed; Nora shared a look with Astrid, who simply shrugged. The door unlocked after a minute or so, and opened to reveal a fearful young man with asian features, a tall guy furiously typing away at a terminal, and the soldier type with the cool hat from before, aiming some kind of bastardized laser weapon at her.

Nora's hands slowly rose. "We _just_ saved your lives. Please point that away from us."

The dark skinned man pursed his lips. "I'm very grateful, just...not stupid. How about you tell me who you are and why you're here first?"

She pointed at her chest. "Nora. Nora Quinn."

"Astrid Frost-Wyrm." -the Nord said behind her.

Nora searched her pocket and pulled out the bit of cardboard brought to them. "We were heading here anyway, looking for...someone. Dogmeat found us, and gave us this. We ran all the way from the Red Rocket truck stop to the northeast."

The man's eyebrows shot up. "There a settlement that far north?"

"Settlement? No, just my old neighborhood. Abandoned."

"And a Vault, clearly."

Nora nodded. "One-eleven. _Also_ abandoned."

The man pointed his weapon to the ground. "I see. Well, I guess you _did_ save our lives. Come on in."

Nora smirked, walking into the old administration room. Two more women were holed up inside - a young, scowling one, and a very old, very _pale_ lady somehow sleeping away the carnage and chaos on a moth-eaten sofa. Dogmeat trotted in, immediately heading for the sleeping old woman and lying down at her feet.

"The name's Preston Garvey. Commonwealth Minutemen." -the soldier said, extending an open hand, which she shook. The angry young woman scoffed at his claim.

"Nice to meet you, Preston. Wish it had been under less bloody circumstances."

" _I_ don't. You got here just in time. A few more minutes and those raiders would've lost their fear of laser muskets." -he said, patting his custom rifle.

"Right."

Garvey sat on the sofa behind him. He looked bone-tired - was almost certainly younger than her, but probably felt a good bit older. "So _you're_ a Vault Dweller, but how about you? Thought I'd seen every kind of person in the Commonwealth, but...you're new." -he asked Astrid, half curious, half fearful.

Astrid slid her helm off. "I am foreign to these lands."

If Preston was shocked by her appearance, he didn't much show it. "I mean, _obviously_. 'Bout as tall as a super mutant, kind of albino looking...are you from up in 'Ronto or something?"

"Skyrim, actually."

"Haven't heard of that one."

"It is not of Earth."

Preston narrowed his eyes. "... _right_." -he said, then looked at me. "Too many chems? What's her poison, Psycho? Buffout?"

Nora snorted. "Astrid hasn't touched any chems since she arrived, as far as I know. No, Astrid really _is_ just a weirdly human-looking magic alien."

" _Magic_?"

"Did you _not_ see the plus-sized _purple wolf_ hanging out with the Mister Handy outside?"

Garvey blinked. "No, I did, I just...thought it was a mutie you'd tamed. You're saying that thing is magical?"

Nora nodded, weary, setting her hands on fire. "That's _exactly_ what I'm saying."

Preston's eyes comically widened, as did those of the asian man and the angry woman. The tall man just whistled, momentarily distracted from the terminal. "What the _hell_?" -the 'minuteman' asked.

"It's a _long_ story, Garvey." -she said, willing the flames to disappear. "So, what about you guys? How'd you get stuck here? What's your plan?"

"Keep listening to this old hag's _bullshit_ , probably." -the angry young woman spat.

Garvey sighed. "For the last time, Marcy: I didn't bring you guys here because of Mama Murphy's 'Sight'. The Abernathy family used to be allied with the Minutemen, and I _know_ they live around this area. Concord was _supposed_ to be abandoned, free of raiders."

"Fuck off with your Minutemen crap, will you? They're _gone_. Even _if_ we had gotten to this farm you keep touting, there was _no_ guarantee they'd take us in." -the woman, Marcy, countered.

"Dear, please; Preston has kept us alive this far. The farm could be a bust, but it's better than the alternative, right?" -the shorter man said, seemingly trying to convince himself.

"You call _this_ a life? I don't know if you noticed, Jun, but we've been running for _over two weeks_. If it's not the fucking Gunners back home, it's raiders here, mutants downtown, _or_ a goddamn _horde of ferals_ at Lexington. I'm surprised we haven't found a nice little _deathclaw_ to finally put us out of our misery."

Preston shot up. "Alright, _enough_. We can argue about this _after_ we're safe." -he all but ordered. He looked at her. "Your old neighborhood, how far is it?"

"Sanctuary? A good hour at a slow pace. There's not much there, though."

The taller man scoffed. "No way. 'Sanctuary'? That the name of the place?"

"Sanctuary Hills, technically. Why?" -Nora asked.

Preston pursed his lips. "Well...Mama Murphy said we'd finally find sanctuary if we kept going north. I thought she was just being a little too optimistic, but now…"

"Told ya she wasn't lyin'." -the taller man said, finally leaving the computer be. "I'm Sturges, by the way. I'm the one who heard Mama Murphy's little 'prediction' back in Quincy."

"Quincy still exists?" -Nora wondered.

Marcy scowled deeply. "No. Not anymore."

Preston's expression turned downcast. "Quincy was attacked by Gunner mercs. The Minutemen tried to defend it, but we were betrayed and had to escape."

"We're all that's left." -Jun said, haunted.

 _First people I've met and they're just like me_ , Nora thought grimly. "I'm very sorry."

"Thank you." -Preston said. "Mind if we ask for just a bit more help?"

"I'm listening."

"We can't stay here, obviously. I'm thinking we can go to Sanctuary Hills, hole up and _heal_ up, then search for Abernathy Farm from there."

"Right."

Garvey pursed his lips. "Only problem is, I'm the last guy in this group who can properly handle a gun, and I'm already on my last few fusion cells. Not to mention doped on stimpaks and Med-X."

Nora resisted the urge to grimace. "You want us to escort you back to Sanctuary."

"That's right. We don't really have much to offer in the way of a reward, but I'll think of something, if you agree."

Against her better judgement - and the pressing, _burning_ need to keep searching for her son - Nora found herself shaking her head. "We didn't do any of this for a reward, Preston. You guys needed help, and we were able to do something about it. If you think going to Sanctuary is the safest option for you, we'd be happy to get you guys there."

The hope blooming in the Minuteman's face - in fact, in _all_ of the survivors' faces - was nearly overwhelming. This wasteland that her beloved Boston had been turned into must have _seriously_ lacked any sort of empathy, because they all looked at her like _she_ was the alien, not the inhumanly tall blonde proudly smiling behind her.

She was about to try and break the awkward silence, when Mama Murphy suddenly roused from her deep slumber, bolting upright with baffling agility.

" _Monsters!_ " -she shouted, her eyes wild and unfocused, roughly grabbing Nora's shoulders. "Not just the one, but indeed the many...claws meet bone, but not just any...of fire born, and thus respects it...hope is found where s'least expected."

Nora extracted herself from the old woman's grip. "What the hell?"

Mama Murphy blinked once, twice, then focused on her. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, kid." -she apologized, sitting back down. "The Sight, it came to me so suddenly…I didn't realize I was hurting you."

"It's ok." -Nora quickly replied. "I'm fine, just...shaken."

"That which you call 'the Sight' is no less than the gift of prophecy, elder." -Astrid said, serious. "It seems I was incorrect; this world may indeed be touched by magic."

Murphy chortled. "Oh, I think I like you, stranger. No one's ever believed me that easily."

"I knew it. You two are fucking insane, too." -Marcy declared, furious. "Stop enabling her! The last thing we need is the ancient junkie OD'ing on us."

"Never you mind that." -the older woman shot back. "The Sight is a gift I can't ignore. It's how I know we're about to be attacked by raiders."

Preston and I shared a look. "Uh...we cleared them out, ma'am. The raiders are all dead."

The old woman looked at her mischievously. "Not the ones arriving just now, kid."

The Minuteman grabbed his laser musket and peeked through a small hole in the wall. "Shit!" -he hissed. "There's _dozens_ of them. Pointing every gun they have at your pals outside."

" _What_? How?" -Nora asked.

"I guess they're...reinforcements. That's not good."

" _Obviously_."

"No, I mean...raiders aren't usually that well organized. All or nothing with them, most of the time, so them holding back a second wave is _odd_."

"Big trouble." -Sturges confirmed. "Fortunately, we have a big wrench ready throw at 'em works."

Nora raised an eyebrow. Preston pursed his lips. "Sturges is being _very_ optimistic." -he admitted. "But we managed to _mostly_ repair a suit of power armor, hidden up on the roof behind the wrecked vertibird."

The redhead's eyes widened. "Holy shit, really?"

"Fixed it myself." -Sturges claimed, proudly. "It's, uh, kinda missing a couple things, though. For one, the OS was fried back when the bombs dropped." -he said, then pointed at the terminal he'd been working on. "Fortunately, I managed to whip up a bit of proprietary code to at least get it movin'. Just gotta install it."

He popped a holotape out of the side of the computer, and handed it to Preston. "What's the second problem?" -the redhead asked.

Preston sighed. "The suit's out of power. No fusion core in it, probably salvaged a long time ago."

Nora smirked. "Ah, well, not a problem, then." -she said, pulling the used core from her back. "I got this from downstairs."

"Well, I'll be damned. How'd you manage to break the encryption on the gate? I got locked out of tryin'."

She snorted. "The password was 'freedom', stupidly enough. I should warn you, the core only has 17% charge left."

"It'll have to do." -Preston said, grim. He offered the holotape to Nora. "Here. Get up there and suit up."

Nora frowned. " _Me_? You're the soldier, Preston."

"I'm _also_ hopped up on chems. Plus, I don't have any training or experience with power armor."

"Well, me either." -she said. "What about you, Sturges?"

The mechanic shook his head, pointing at his leg. "My knee's busted. Can't bend it enough to walk around in PA. 'sides, you're the one with the portable computer strapped on your wrist."

Nora scowled, frustrated. She looked at the Longs, but Jun had been reduced to a terrified, muttering mess, and Marcy gave her a death glare scarier than Astrid's helm. " _Shit_." -she muttered, yanking the holotape from Preston's hands. "If I blow myself up, I'm blaming you, Garvey."

"Noted. Now, go become a walking tank."


	8. Survival Instincts Not Included

**This is short, but it's... _progress_.**

* * *

When Slag had ordered Arsenic to take half their gang - a _hundred_ or so Forged raiders - to take over Concord and establish a new base for them there, he'd almost laughed in his boss's face. Just as it was common knowledge that Southie was a death trap, _everybody_ knew that the northern reaches of the Commonwealth were an empty wasteland. A waste of time and effort, to try and make anything out of places long since scavenged empty.

Still, Slag _was_ the main man for a reason, so Arsenic obeyed. He sent his men in smaller bands, a dozen at a time, so as to not draw too much attention.

He should've sent _every_ _fucking_ _one_ at once.

Between the roving packs of Super Mutants near Diamond City, and the _infestation_ of Ferals at Lexington, half his forces had been lost. He'd lost half his own squad just a week prior to an ambush by an embarrassingly young Deathclaw, not far from Concord, which they'd only just barely managed to drive away.

Still, there'd been good pickings along the way. By Slag's ideals, the dead Forged were too weak, anyway. Things were looking up when, by some stroke of luck, they picked up the trail of a small caravan of settlers, escorted only by a couple _Minutemen_ , of all people.

He was gonna _scalp_ the next fucker who told him the Minutemen were gone.

He'd heard of Quincy, sure. Who hadn't, by now? A waste of perfectly good settlers, if they asked him, but he could appreciate the Gunners' handiwork. _Unfortunately_ , they'd seemingly missed a few, because, after crossing off half their group in a kick-ass surprise raid, a _single fucking man_ had not only held them off for two days from that _fucking balcony_ , he'd actually made him and most of his raiders _retreat_.

Today was a good day for _revenge_.

Arsenic walked into town with the rest of his men behind him. The cracked and damaged streets were _drenched_ with blood, which he might've appreciated if not for the fact that it had once belonged to the Forged. "Maybe we oughta... _reconsider_ , boss." -his second in command suggested.

Arsenic just grunted in response, examining a discarded pipe rifle, seemingly smashed to bits. "What the _fuck_ happened to this one? Where's his _head_?" -another raider asked.

"Shit, he got off easy, this chick's _guts_ are out."

" _Heh_ , dibs on this arm."

Arsenic growled. "Shut the _fuck_ _up_ , you little _shits_. We'll pick these dead fucks up for the pyre later. Just get ready to burn that museum to the ground."

"Eh, boss? _Something's_ coming out of there."

The raiders all turned to see a tall, darkly armored figure, nearly as bulky as if they were wearing Power Armor, slowly walking out between the large, wooden doors. Blood-red lights adorned the underside of the armored plates, and a demonic helm seemed to glare at them all. The figure carried a sword seemingly made of sharpened bone, large enough for a Super Mutant to comfortably wield.

"What the _fuck_?" -Arsenic wondered, aloud.

" _Drem yol lok,_ raiders." -the figure bellowed, their voice surprisingly feminine. "I am Astrid, the Dragon Queen, Empress of Nirn. _You_...are _dead_."

The raiders levelled their firearms, but stopped short of shooting, entranced as she chanted, her hands becoming wreathed in purple flames. A wave of dark energy burst forth from her, washing over the entire street; Arsenic and his men looked themselves over, terrified, but nothing seemed to have happened.

" _Holy shit!_ " -one of the raiders at the back said, after a moment. "Ghouls!"

Arsenic turned, and saw...well, he wasn't _quite_ a Feral Ghoul. The dead man who'd lost his arm had risen, his skin, pale in death and caked with blood and dirt, now plagued with purple-black veins. He was far from the only one, though: all around them, all through _town_ , the corpses were _rising_.

Arsenic was terrified, but still, he _was_ a raider, and beyond that, one of the Forged. He levelled his Flamer and let loose an inferno, which quickly enveloped the nearest risen. His underlings were not as quick-witted, however, scattering as they tried to evade the makeshift zombies under the so-called Dragon Queen's command.

" _Stand your ground, you useless fucks!_ " -Arsenic shouted, batting away the gutless woman.

It was no use; the undead minions, though weak and easily dispatched, had succeeded in breaking his men's ranks.

He turned, furious; the armored woman stood idle, seemingly amused, surveying the chaos. " _I'm gonna melt that armor off of you, bitch!_ " -he roared.

Astrid brandished her blade, smirking beneath her helm. "I invite you to _try_."

* * *

Nora almost wished the path to the Armor had been longer. She easily made her way to the roof, where it waited for her.

" _Fuck_." -she muttered. The suit had clearly spent a _long_ time outdoors, but Sturges had done a great job of repairing it. Aside from the paint job, it stood just as tall and proud as she remembered her husband's.

"Well, it's no T-51 set, but it'll have to do." -Nate said, appearing beside her.

Nora took a hand to her chest, gasping. " _Jesus_ , Nate, you scared the _shit_ out of me."

Nate offered her a small smirk. "Sorry. Astrid thought you might need my assistance."

"Well, I hate to say it, but she's right." -Nora admitted. "I barely remember what you taught me about Power Armor."

"Don't worry, I'll walk you through it." -he shrugged. "Not that there seems to be much of a rush; Astrid's got the Raiders handled, for now."

Nora sighed. " _Right_. What's step one?"

Nate nodded at the holotape between her fingers. "You'll need to replace the OS. You won't be able to install the fusion core without it. There's a port on the back of the helmet; connect your Pip-Boy, insert the holotape, and run the installation software."

The redhead did as he said, linking her wristbound computer to the T-45's systems. She popped open the tape slot, and ran the OS's installation module. The Pip-Boy's considerable processing power ensured that the process took only a few seconds.

"It's done." -she announced. "Now what?"

"Your Pip-Boy should now be wirelessly linked to the armor's Heads-Up Display. All that's left is inserting the core and 'popping the hatch'."

Nora swallowed. "Just like that?"

Nate raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, kinda. Servicing the armor is the easy part; operating it is where the real challenge lies."

She sighed. "Oh. I kinda hoped there would be more ceremony to it."

"What? Why?"

Nora looked him in the eye. "I'm delaying. The truth is, I don't _want_ to do this, Nate. The armor, the fighting... _any_ of it."

He frowned. " _Ok_...so then, why agree to help the Minuteman?"

The fusion core slid inside easily, the armor automatically securing it. "I promised to avenge you. I promised to find our son." -she said. "I need to survive at _least_ until that happens."

Nora struggled, rust fighting her efforts, but she finally managed to turn the valve-like locking mechanism open. The armor opened up for her, surprisingly smoothly. "Besides," -she said, undoing the straps to her husband's chestplate and taking off her sunglasses, "Someone has to help these people."

Nate smiled lightly, then vanished as she stepped inside. The armor automatically closed, leaving her a little cramped; clearly, this particular frame had been customized for a shorter man. Nevertheless, the suit fit, and pressurized as soon as it sealed.

Nora clenched her hands experimentally, the mechanical fingers perfectly mimicking the motion. She took her first, heavy step, and nearly fell over; contrary to what logic might suggest, moving required no extra effort on her part, the armor's servos and hydraulics easily handling the entire weight. As such, her unnecessarily harsh motion resulted in the suit practically _leaping_ forward.

She grabbed onto the frame of the fallen Vertibird, buckling the steel under her robotic hands. " _Okay._ " -she muttered, the helmet making her voice a lot more menacing. " _Baby steps it is._ "

Nora stood upright, looking around. There was a skeleton in soldier attire, slumped against the aircraft's hulls, and another two at at the pilot's seat. A holotape labelled ' _Log - SSG Michael Daly_ ' lay beside the first, and a flight helmet adorned each of the others' skulls. She gingerly picked up the holotape and switched it around with Sturges' OS installer, then played it through the helmet's internal speakers.

" _Personal log. United States Army Staff Sergeant Michael Daly. This past Saturday, October 23rd while en route to West Stockbridge, our Vertibird crashed into the roof of this museum._ "

Nora walked into the wrecked aircraft, finding the gunner's minigun surprisingly undamaged, though bolted down to the floor of the cabin.

" _The cause: EMP following nuclear detonation. Several, in fact. From the intel I've gathered, this was a global event. The co-pilot was killed on impact. Pilot died of his injuries a day later. Day after that, Flaherty and Kanawa were shot by some scared, desperate, survivors. Then Proznanski took off running. Haven't seen him since._ "

Nora frowned, grabbing the weapon, then _yanked_ it off. - she shouldn't have been surprised, but it was still _ridiculously_ easy. The armor's sensors immediately updated to show her the minigun's stats and a set of crosshairs. She had two drums of ammo, one full, the other - attached to the gun - at about 80% capacity. All in all, some nine-hundred five millimeter rounds.

" _Now it's my turn to go AWOL, if that concept even applies anymore. My armor's fusion core is burned out, so I guess my soldiering days are done. I'm heading to Boston, on foot, to see if my sister survived all this. She's got an apartment on Boylston Street. This is Mike Daly, signing out. Good luck. And God bless America. Or what's left of it._ "

With the parting, defiant words of a man long since claimed by the Apocalypse in mind, Nora stepped out to the edge of the roof, and jumped.


	9. Old Dragon, Young Deathclaw

Astrid had, _perhaps_ , underestimated the situation.

It's not that the raiders' strength or prowess in combat was anything to write home about. Their armor was flimsy, patchworks of shoddy leather and rusted tin. They were not brave, and certainly weren't very smart. Their weapons were pitiful, and their numbers had been brutally culled.

They were, however, _loud_ , and their racket could... _complicate_ things.

The first sign of trouble had been a roar, off in the distance. Astrid had been in the middle of running through the raiders' leader when it happened. Beneath her, the dying man chuckled, spitting blood.

"You...you _cunts_ are gonna get yours." -he said, his breathing labored, but smiling nonetheless.

Astrid frowned, roughly pulling out her blade. "What do you mean, _vagrant_?"

"That roar?" -he asked, clutching the gaping hole in his belly. "That's a fucking _Deathclaw_. You're about to _die_ , bitch. A- _ugh_ -all of you are fucking _dead_."

The Dragonborn narrowed her eyes. "We shall see." -she said, then cast Soul Trap on the dying man, and quickly stabbed him in the eye with the Blade of Woe.

She rose to see the others scrambling away, leaving behind their cover. Another roar resonated through the emptying town, much closer this time. Whatever a Deathclaw was, it was coming _fast_. Astrid summoned her familiar, Aela coming into existence in a combat-ready stance. The spectral she-wolf growled as a raider came into view at the end of Main Street, a woman by the looks of things. The raider kept shooting backwards, which almost immediately led to her losing her footing and falling to the ground. Astrid began to jog towards her, but stopped cold in her tracks as a figure slowly walked around the block.

Not much was left in the universe that could halt the last _dovahkiin_ in her tracks; she'd been raised amongst Skyrim's toughest warriors, she'd hunted dragons for sport, she'd conquered entire _worlds_. But the creature that menacingly stalked toward the fallen raider gave her pause. It was alien, to be sure, a massive reptile with all the wrong proportions, like a horrifically mutated Argonian. The monster's arms were too long, its tail too short, its snout stunted. It had claws like sickles, easily as long as dragon fangs, if not longer, unnaturally sharp. Glowing red eyes stared unwavering at its intended prey, who'd been muted by sheer horror and dread.

Astrid knew what she was looking at. It was a twisted reflection of herself, wasn't it? - a living weapon of war. The gods had created _her_ ; what had created the Deathclaw?

In any event, the dragonborn watched, enraptured, as the nightmarish creature prepared to lunge at the helpless raider. Her subconscious got the better of her, however, as Aela bolted towards the Deathclaw before it could pounce. The monster immediately turned, roaring in defiance. Astrid shook her head, resigned, then brandished her sword and ran off towards the battle about to ensue.

It almost immediately went to Oblivion.

The Deathclaw was, clearly, _much_ smarter than it looked like. Instead of mindlessly meeting Aela head-on, the creature patiently waited until the she-wolf had pounced, and _then_ moved out of the way, letting Aela crash against the front of a building. The raider immediately rose and began to run away, taking advantage of the Deathclaw's distraction.

Aela tried to shake the crash off, but the Deathclaw was _quick_ \- faster than the familiar, to be sure - and lunged at its side. Aela had no flesh to speak off, which was a mercy; instead of a gory mess, Aela simply exploded into motes of light as soon as the Deathclaw was done. The whole process took a mere five seconds - about as long as it took for Astrid to reach the fight.

 _No one_ messed with her pup.

Astrid brought down her mighty blade in an overhead arc, and sank it into the monster's flesh. There was little satisfaction in this, however, as the sword merely inflicted a superficial wound, the thick skin and scales taking most of the power out of her swing. The Deathclaw roared in pain, more annoyed than anything else, and back-handed her away, the sword still embedded as she flew a considerable distance away. Astrid shook her head and began to rise, but the Deathclaw had already charged, and headbutted her into one of the half-dozen barricades the raiders had presumably set up. She managed to throw a couple of punches at its snout, but it seemed unfazed, even before her great strength.

Then, it bit her neck.

The _dovahkiin_ screamed in pain as the creature's surprisingly small fangs broke through the daedric armor and the skin below, tearing muscle and breaking her clavicle. Astrid managed to draw her dagger through the pain, and stabbed the Deathclaw in the eye.

Astrid hoarsely gasped in relief as the creature howled and staggered away, wisely avoiding pawing at its face. Her hands immediately became wreathed in golden energy, the restoration spell slowly mending her grievous wound. The Deathclaw roared, heedless of its wound, and swiped at her with its sickle-like claws, but Astrid had had enough, and the surprise had worn off. With the fury of a _dovah_ in her blood, she managed to Shout.

" **FUS RO DAH!** " -she bellowed, the wave of pure force blasting the Deathclaw off its clawed feet and against a nearby derelict shop, the front of which utterly collapsed on top of the creature. The blonde struggled to her feet, and tried to further heal herself, but the whole battle had taken its toll - her magicka reserves were all but depleted. Astrid knew she would mend, in time, so she chose not to pull a magicka flask from her inventory.

It was, of course, a mistake.

The Deathclaw, against all odds, burst out of the rubble, showering the Dragon Empress in debris. Astrid readied herself for another tackle, but the Deathclaw had something else in mind: it picked up a massive chunk of concrete, and _hurled_ it at Astrid.

The Dragonborn barely knew what hit her. Astrid fell, unconscious, for the first time since her Empire had dawned.

* * *

 **I _hate_ that the Deathclaw encounter at the beginning of the game is so easy. And I'm the kind of guy who plays everything on the easiest difficulty! I feel like it takes the fear out of what should be a terrifying experience. I guess it's meant to show how different Power Armor is in 4 (which I absolutely dig), but Deathclaws should be the apex predators of the Wastes. Astrid _is_ better than this, but she's rusty, so don't judge her too harshly. She's still an OP dovahkiin.**


	10. An Unexpected Bond

**If you were expecting a fight - and trust me, I was, too - then I hate to disappoint you. Just the aftermath, I'm afraid. It's not enough, but I need to get the plot moving.**

 **I still hope you guys enjoy! I'm so sorry this took so long.**

* * *

Nora groaned as she came to, awakened by the insistent tapping on her plexiglas visor.

"Hey, are you still alive?" -Preston asked above her.

She opened her eyes, and saw nothing but the sky and his face. "I'm alive. _Somehow._ " -she confirmed.

"Goddamn, Vault-Girl. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't just seen it." -he said, awed. "You wouldn't be the first to claim you threw hands with a _Deathclaw_ , but you'd probably be the least drunk."

Nora winced, trying to rise. The armor creaked, torn up and warped as it was. "Astrid softened it up."

"I mean, _sure_ , but it also knocked _her_ out."

"Is the monster dead?" -she asked, catching her breath.

Preston pursed his lips. "Yeah, uh...about that? See for yourself."

She frowned as she got to her feet, and surveyed the carnage. The street was now filled with mangled corpses and rubble; everything had gone to hell as soon as she'd touched down. The Deathclaw - aptly named, Nora thought - had charged her immediately, seemingly drawn to the challenge. She'd let loose a torrent of lead from her minigun, but the creature's skin was so tough that most of the bullets had ricocheted, further ruining the storefronts. The minigun had been destroyed by a single swipe of the monster's claws, and now lay in pieces ahead of her. After that, the fight had gotten... _physical_ , if you could call it that. Wrestling with a mutated theropod was already a strong contender for the top spot of 'worst part of the post-apocalypse so far'. It had bitten, clawed, and kicked at her, its razor-sharp talons cutting the outermost layers of the composite plating to ribbons.

Nora had remembered Mama Murphy's prophecy, though. In a moment of desperation, she'd summoned a burst of magickal flame and blasted the creature's face with it, throwing it into a panic. After that, she'd beaten it into submission.

Yeah. Not to death. _Into submission_. She'd punched the damn lizard's skull until the frame's titanium hand had shattered into pieces, and all she'd accomplished was knocking it _unconscious_.

" _Fuck_." -she said. A recuperated Astrid - magically repaired injuries, armor, and all - knelt by the fallen Deathclaw, which still breathed. "What's she doing now?"

Preston shook his head. "Dunno. I thought she was gonna finish it off, but she didn't even go for her giant-ass sword."

Nora grunted. "I better go check it out." -she said. "Tell the others to get ready, alright? We need to reach Sanctuary Hills before it starts getting dark."

The Minuteman nodded. "No argument here, ma'am." -he said, then trotted towards the Museum, warily glancing back at the fallen reptile a couple of times.

The redhead sighed, exhausted, and walked up to Astrid. The Dragonborn was mumbling in what she assumed was Dovahzul, judging by the short, harsh words she was using.

"What are you doing?"

Astrid stopped, and turned to her. Nora gasped; her eyes were glowing like molten gold, two narrow slits bisecting them - her dragon soul coming through, no doubt, but still a shock to witness for someone who'd been a simple lawyer not even a week before. Her eyes turned back to normal after a second or two, but Nora couldn't imagine that she'd forget them anytime soon.

"I am...communing with it." -she said, serious.

Nora narrowed her eyes. "... _why_?" -she asked in disbelief.

"This... _creature_ has a strange soul. It is not quite black - not quite sapient, like you and me - but it is also decidedly not white, like that of an animal." -she explained. "Moreover...I can sense that a bond has formed between its soul and your own."

"You've gotta be _fucking_ kidding me." -Nora said, after a moment. "We _bonded_? Over _what_ , the fucking beat down we just gave each other?"

"Yes." -Astrid said, ignoring her sarcasm. "This is troubling."

"This is _ridiculous_."

"Not so, my friend." -Astrid said. "Mastery over the beasts of the land is no small feat, but it is also not unheard of - not on Nirn, at any rate. One of my friends had a Saber Cat as a pet for much of my youth."

"... _sure_." -Nora said, shaking her head, trying not to picture a sabertooth tiger purring for someone. "What's _troubling_ , then?"

Astrid looked back at the slumbering monster. "I sensed, if only for a moment, a fellow _dovah_."

Nora crossed her arms. "...what, the _Deathclaw_?"

"I am just as surprised as you are by this development." -Astrid said. "There was no divinity to it, no immortal influence...but the challenge, the _spirit_? _That_ is what I sensed."

"So now what? Don't tell me you're gonna let it _live_?"

Astrid shrugged. "It defeated _me_ , if only momentarily - _you're_ the one who proved dominion over it." -she said, impressed. "In other words...the Deathclaw bonded with _you_. I cannot make this decision for you, Nora."

The Sole Survivor blinked, stupefied. What kind of a choice was that? Let a rampaging, mutated _death machine_ run loose, or destroy it and make this horrific wasteland just a bit safer? Why would she _ever_ let the damn thing live?

Fate must not have appreciated her indecision, because it made the choice for her; the Deathclaw stirred, and, fast as lightning, it _rose_ , towering over them. Nora vaguely noticed that the bloody mess that had been his eye, the one Astrid stabbed, seemed to have already healed.

And then, it made eye contact with her.

Even through her visor, she could feel its glowing gaze touch her own. There was so _much_ in those eyes, more than in any other animal's she'd ever seen; there was rage there, sure, but there was also curiosity, respect, and, most puzzling of all, _expectation_.

A single bolt of laserfire ended the oddly beautiful, peaceful moment. It knocked the Deathclaw's right horn off, causing the beast to howl in pain and roar, only to run away towards the street it had come from before the fight.

Nora spared a moment to both count her blessings and mutter ' _what the fuck just happened_ ' before turning around and looking for the shooter. Preston Garvey stood at the balcony of the Museum, his laser musket still aglow after the shot.

Astrid sighed. "What a _shame_." -she grumbled. "History in the making, and some skittish mortal ruins it."

"He saved my life!" -Nora said, indignant.

"The Deathclaw would not have harmed you. Not without provocation." -Astrid said, with a half shrug. "And besides, I _am_ right here."

Nora shook her head. "Whatever. I'm just glad it's over." -she said. "Come on, let's go find the survivors."


	11. The Long Trudge Back to Sanctuary

**Really pushing the T rating with this one. Content warning for offensive language, non-descriptive nudity, and Marcy Long as a person.**

* * *

"I can't _fucking believe_ you let that _thing_ live!" -Marcy spat, as soon as Nora and Astrid entered the Museum.

The group of refugees had done a good job of collecting everything of value from both the Raiders and the Museum itself; they were all huddled around a sizable stash of weapons, ammo, food items, and even a terminal Sturges had no doubt salvaged. Outside, Codsworth, Aela, and Dogmeat were doing something similar. Nora's mind immediately started coming up with ideas for building some defenses for Sanctuary, but she shook the impulse off. She had to think of Shaun first, and the Quincy survivors later.

"I would have enjoyed watching _you_ try to defeat it." -Astrid said, nonplussed. "For all of the two seconds you would have lasted."

" _Fuck_ _you_ , you albino _freak_." -she shot back, then turned to Nora. "And _fuck_ you too, Vault Dweller. That _fucking_ lizard is gonna circle back around by tomorrow and finish us off, you'll see."

"Give me a fucking break, alright?" -Nora hotly retorted. "I _just_ woke up from a fucking _two-hundred year nap,_ and I've already been shot at, attacked by giant bugs, and nearly mauled by a _fucking dinosaur_!"

" _Yeah_. That's _everyday life_ in this hellhole. Welcome to the Commonwealth, _bitch_." -Marcy said, unimpressed.

Preston stepped in the middle before things could escalate further. "Alright, you two. _Stop_. If it's anyone's fault that the Deathclaw escaped, it's mine. I had the kill-shot, and I missed."

Nora sighed, her fury already evaporated. "It's _fine_ , Preston. I'm just glad it didn't decide to stick around for round two." -she said, shaking her now useless, mangled robo-hand.

"Eh, get me the right tools and supplies, and I can fix that." -Sturges said, shrugging. "Now, what say we figure out our livin' arrangements, huh? Much as I appreciate the exhibits, this place is a bit of a fixer-upper." -he said, amused, pointing at the Vertibird peering through the ceiling.

"Sturges is right." -Preston said. "We need to hoof it to Sanctuary, before the sun goes down."

Marcy crossed her arms, seemingly swallowing her anger. "No _shit_." -she said, scathing, then turned to Nora. "I figure you don't know _shit_ about survival, so I'll spell it out for you: we need to take guns, bullets, food, and water. _In that order._ Everything _else_ …" -she pointed at the terminal, the bits of bloody armor stripped from the bodies, and, oddly enough, at Mama Murphy, "...is _dead weight._ "

Preston offered a sheepish smile. "Marcy's right, but don't worry. We can stash the rest and make supply runs later."

Astrid rolled her eyes. "Not to worry. I shall solve this problem for you." -she said, then waved her hands over the pile. One by one, the items glowed white, and vanished, until none were left. "There!"

Marcy looked like she was going to pop a vein. " _What the fuck did you do!?_ " -she shrieked.

The dragonborn smirked, held out her hand, and materialized a box of Salisbury Steaks from the pile. "I stored everything in a pocket dimension. It's a rather basic spell called Inventory."

Nora blinked. "...can I learn that one, too?"

"Yes, of course." -Astrid said, then turned to the others. "If you wish to take anything else, feel free to bring it to me."

"Next week." -Preston proposed, urgency behind his tone. "What we gathered is more than enough for the next few days; let's focus on getting to Sanctuary, resting up, and start on making it a home."

Nora nodded, knowing full well she wouldn't be staying more than absolutely necessary - another day, at most, probably not even that. "Agreed. Let's go, people."

* * *

Nora breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted the Red Rocket sign in the distance, just a few minutes away. The sun was already flirting with the horizon, and there wouldn't be any light but the moon's after it went down.

"Never been this far north before." -Preston admitted. The dark-skinned man had opted to guard the rear of their little convoy, and Nora had decided to join him with Dogmeat, wary of his fatigue and chem overusage. Astrid, Aela, and Codsworth led the way.

"Why not?" -Nora asked.

Preston shrugged. "Grew up in Diamond City, so I didn't really know much of the Commonwealth until I joined up with the Minutemen. Then there's the fact that there aren't really any settlements around here, so I never had a reason to travel north."

Nora hummed. "Well, North Boston was pretty empty even back before the war. I guess I'm not that surprised."

"Yeah, I wanted to ask about that, actually." -Preston said, narrowing his eyes. "You keep talking about the past as if you _lived_ it. Are _you_ the one on chems, or are you just a _really_ well preserved Ghoul?"

The redhead frowned. "Well, first of all, I don't do chems, Garvey." -she said, annoyed. "Second, what the _hell_ do you mean, a Ghoul?"

"You... _don't know_ what a Ghoul is?" -he asked, stupefied.

"Aside from horror films, no."

He pursed his lips. "Well, I guess you _are_ a Vault Dweller…" -he muttered. "Ghouls are...mutated people. Radiation is _usually_ deadly, but some people actually... _benefit_ , in a way, from rads. Enough exposure, and they become Ghouls - their bodies become kinda like...well, _corpses_ , but they no longer age, and they _barely_ need food or water. If at all."

Awkward silence passed between them, as Nora chewed on the information. Oddly enough, she'd heard a rumour, just a couple of weeks before the bombs fell - some 'snake oil'-type _bullshit_ about _living_ _forever_ by dousing yourself in chemicals and getting blasted with rads, supposedly leaked from military research.

"Well, no." -Nora said, finally. "I'll take your word for it, but that's not what happened to me. I was _frozen_. Like, cryogenically. Me and most of my neighborhood, just a few minutes after the bombs dropped."

Preston blinked a couple of times. " _...damn._ " -he said. "That's... _incredible_. I mean, I've met a couple of pre-war Ghouls, but their memories of America are always _really_ hazy. They barely remember where they _lived,_ let alone what their neighbors looked like."

Nora gave him a half-smile. "Well, the day before yesterday - for me, anyway - I stopped by _this_ truck stop and bought a couple Nukas for my husband." -she said.

The rest of their group had just reached the Red Rocket, and started looking for a place to rest and grab a snack. Astrid began pulling food and water from thin air, distributing it according to Marcy's instructions.

"Alright. Tonight by the campfire, you've _got_ to tell us about life before the war." -Preston declared.

Nora resisted the urge to grimace. Recounting the end of the world was _not_ her idea of relaxing before a good-night's sleep. " _Sure_." -she said, grabbing the food Astrid offered her. "Let's get there in one piece first, though."

* * *

Sanctuary was just as quiet as they'd left it. Astrid, Preston, and herself gave the decrepit neighborhood one last sweep before declaring it safe, and choosing a place to sleep at.

Nora meant to offer her house, but she found that she couldn't. She thought they'd choose it anyway, since it was easily the cleanest and most intact one, but they didn't; instead, they picked Rosa's house, directly in front.

 _Fuck_ , Nora thought. _Rosa and her son didn't even make the Vault_.

She supposed the choice made _some_ sense; Rosa's late husband - and one of Nate's squadmates, Charlie, unfortunately killed in action - had set up a Power Armor workstation and several workbenches in the house's garage. Nora smiled wistfully: the setup had caused _many_ a complaint from some of the neighbors, who called it 'unsightly'. The workbenches would be _extremely_ useful now.

With Astrid's help, Nora hung the heavily damaged Power Armor, and finally exited the damn thing.

"You are injured, Nora." -Astrid noted, her hands immediately taking on that golden healing glow, closing the cut on her forehead and alleviating the pain of the _plethora_ of bruises she'd acquired on the brawl with the Deathclaw.

"Thanks." -Nora said with a heavy sigh.

Astrid nodded. "The day's events have caught up with you, I imagine?"

"Yep." -Nora said. "Wish I could just grab a shower, maybe a Nuka Dark and a few cigarettes…that's what I'd do after a tough case, y'know?" -she said, amused.

The Atmoran materialized a packet of cigarettes. "Here."

Nora raised an eyebrow, gratefully taking the box. "I'm surprised you know what a cigarette is."

"I do _not_." -Astrid admitted. "But I _can_ read the box."

The redhead snorted. She almost asked for a lighter, before she realized she had her Flames. Before long, she was enjoying the toxic burn in her throat. "Well, these are _stale as hell_ , but they'll do." -she said. "It's been _ages_ since I had one."

"Literally, yes."

Nora actually chuckled. "No, I mean...I didn't smoke at all while pregnant, and then I was breastfeeding Shaun, so...I haven't smoked for about a year, I think. In _my_ time, of course."

Marcy interrupted them with a scoff. "That's twelve caps you just cost us." -she said, scathing as always.

Nora frowned, her humor gone. "What do you mean?"

"Are you _retarded_? Or just an asshole?" -Marcy asked, before explaining _very slowly_. "Those _things_ you're smoking? One pack is worth twelve bottle caps, which will _probably_ get you a _meal_. A _shitty_ meal, but a full belly is a full belly."

The Survivor's features hardened. "Use another slur with me, and a lost pack of cigarettes will be the _least_ of your problems, Marcy."

Marcy sneered. "Try to keep up your Vault's lifestyle out in the Wastes, and a fucking _bad word_ will be the least of _yours_."

Nora threw her cigarette away. " _Alright_. You wanna know what living in my Vault was like? C'mon, I'll _show you_. Five minute walk, and you'll see just _how comfortable_ I _fucking_ was, frozen for two-hundred _fucking_ years." -she said, irate. " _Only_ to wake up and see my husband _murdered,_ and my only son _kidnapped_ by the man who shot him."

Astrid put her armored hands on her shoulders. It wasn't much of a comfort, but it _did_ help ground her, remove the red filter from her eyes - Marcy seemed shocked, and they'd gained an audience, in the form of the rest of their group.

"You're...the only one left?" -Preston asked, gently.

Nora deflated a bit. She gestured at her house. "All my neighbors are buried in my backyard." -she said, wiping away the tears that she hadn't noticed falling. "Vault 111 was a death-trap, and I'm the sole survivor."

Silence reigned, but for the crackling of the campfire on what was once Rosa's front lawn. "Come, Nora." -Astrid said, gently leading her toward the river encircling Sanctuary. "Let us wash, before dinner."

Nora followed, a bit listless, trying not to think too much about the pitying looks of the Quincy survivors.

* * *

To her credit, Astrid's idea of 'taking her mind off unpleasant things' was working _very_ well. As in, they were now both _naked_ , washing themselves under the moonlit night.

"Your stare is rather flattering, Nora." -Astrid said, amused.

Nora blushed madly, averting her gaze from the Nord's bare back, as scarred as the rest of her body. " _Fuck_ , sorry. Just...trying to think about _anything_ except of what just happened back there."

"Trauma is nothing to be ashamed of." -she said, turning to face her. "And neither is admiring a beautiful woman."

The redhead snorted, laser-focused on her own scrubbing, trying to stay underwater as much as possible. Astrid had already stripped her nude that first night, stuffed her in the cozy green dress she was about to use to sleep, but she hadn't exactly been _conscious_ for that. " _Someone_ 's humble." -she muttered.

" _Certainly_ not me."

"Oh my god. This is _so weird_." -Nora said, awkwardly laughing.

"I agree; curse or not, the daedric armor _is_ rather integral to my appearance."

"That is _not_ what I meant."

"I know, I know. Still, best get used to casual nudity, my friend." -Astrid said, nonchalant. "If the settlers are to be believed, most people out in the Wastes bathe this way. Safer in groups, or so they claim. 'Easier for half a dozen people to scare off a Mirelurk', Garvey said."

Nora took a deep breath, and looked at her companion. Needless to say, it was like staring at a - very smugly smirking - statue of Aphrodite. " _Right_. And this topic of conversation came up... _why_?"

"I asked them why some of the raiders - the women, especially - were so scarcely clothed. _Layers_ are a commodity in the Commonwealth, it seems."

"I didn't even notice that." -Nora admitted. "I feel like all I saw was blood and gore."

"Oh, there were a few tits out and about." -Astrid spared a sad smile for her. "I _am_ sorry that this is the world you've woken to, Nora, but I must say, you are adapting _remarkably_ well to it."

" _Am I_ , now? I _just_ blew up back there." -she said, crossing her arms.

"Justifiably so, yes. If that woman had any concern for _anyone_ but herself, and her own safety, she might have caught on to the fact that your origin as Vault Dweller was _anything_ but comfortable."

Nora sighed. "I can't exactly fault her. The way I acted and the things I did must've seemed idiotic, wasteful, and maybe even _cruel_ for someone who survived genocide and a harrowing chase through the wasteland. She didn't know."

Astrid snorted. "I doubt she would have been any more agreeable, had she known. In fact, I do not expect her knowing to soften her attitude towards us."

"Maybe not." -Nora said. " _Anyway_ , we should probably get back to camp. This water is a couple rads above safe, and I do _not_ want to find out what a Mirelurk is."

The Nord approached her. "Of course. Before we go, though…"

Nora's brain short-circuited a bit as the massive woman hugged her. It was far from sexual in nature, even though their bodies were naturally flush together, and their height difference meant her head had ended up kinda smushed against the half-Giant's chest. " _Your boobs are_ choking _me, you crazy woman_!" -she muttered, burning with embarrassment.

Still, she got the intent behind Astrid's brazen gesture. This was a declaration of absolute trust and support; after all, the woman hugging her was currently mortal, the armor that denied her the ability to die cast aside for the duration of this strange, awkward, but ultimately heartfelt conversation.

Astrid cackled a bit. "Not the worst way to go, dear Nora. Not the worst at all."


End file.
